Love Your Enemies (for they tell you your faults)
by LaLainaJ
Summary: Post "His Sister's Keeper." As the group rallies to save Finn's life, Clarke begins to crack. Bellamy fights his bad habits to help her out and they find out that they may be more alike than either of them had considered possible. In chapter 6: Clarke is on board with plans for the future, while the past is set aside.
1. Love Your Enemies

**Authors Note**: Hello! It's been ages since I've written anything but I just got the urge with this show. This is un beta read, so I'll apologize in advance for any mistakes. I've never read the book, so this is strictly show verse. Comments welcome! Title is a Benjamin Franklin quote. There will likely be more of this but no promises.

**Love Your Enemies (for they tell you your faults)**

Bellamy resisted the urge to begin kicking the wall as he watched Octavia storm away. They'd never fought like that. Hell, before landing on earth they'd never really fought at all. Fighting was noisy, for one, and he'd always done whatever he could to make Octavia happy and as comfortable as possible while on the Ark. Even now, when he was furious at her, he checked to make sure she got into the drop ship. The kid that got speared hovered, ready to help her on her still unsteady leg. He was irritated at the boy (at any boy), but he knew better than anyone (guard training included a rotation through the juvenile holding cells) that there were worse people down here that she could have latched on to. Spacewalker, his girlfriend, a couple of hallucinogenic plant thieves and Clarke were far better companions for Octavia than any of the 12 or so violent criminals still found in the camp.

He watched the darkening sky for a moment more before he turned to a small group huddled near him and started barking orders.

He gave the order to pull in as many of the gathered supplies as possible. Most of their meagre cache of medical equipment was already housed in the drop ship but he made sure that everything that could possibly be of use to Clarke that was outside: various plants Monty and Clarke had gathered and were experimenting with, the supply of bandages that had been boiled and hung to dry, a supply of firewood and all of the clean water was brought in. They pulled in the food and the weapons, various pieces of fabric that they'd been using as bedding and then began to secure what they could outside. When that was done most of the group headed inside. Bellamy instructed the remaining people outside to set up the rain collecting equipment they'd cobbled together, and then he headed in.

It wasn't going to be a comfortable night for anyone with 90 or so teens crammed into the ship, especially with the upper deck being monopolized by the group tending to Finn, and working on the comms. Bellamy took a moment to think about that number. He wasn't even sure anymore what the exact count was and made a note to do a thorough headcount when the storm passed, and to set up some kind of check in system. Losing Octavia for 12 hours was unacceptable and a too small group could quickly become a problem. They needed numbers to sustain them and to fight off the threat of the Grounders.

Clarke would be happy with that at least. She'd made it clear that 'whatever the hell we want' didn't work for her and Bellamy could now see that, if they were going to survive in the long term, they'd need to make a few more suggestions to the group. Brute force hadn't solved everything and his pack of enforcers was rapidly dwindling because of the grounder attacks and infighting.

Those in the ship were settling in. There was some grumbling about the space but Bellamy fixed a hard glare on a few of the perpetrators and it died down. He checked on the younger kids, there were 5 kids around 13 that he made a point to keep track of, and found them huddled together in a corner. Bellamy glared around the room, "It's one storm people. Anyone who has a problem with the accommodations can feel free to sleep outside."

He found Monroe, told her to keep an eye on things, to make sure everyone was in when the rain started, and to come get him if she needed him, before he ascended the ladder.

He took a quick survey of the room. The usual suspects were all present. Raven was focused intently on a tangle of wires spilling out of a monitor and did not even glance up when he came up the ladder. Finn was laid out on the makeshift table, pale but seemingly still breathing. The knife was still sticking up out of his side but brownish paste had been spread around the wound. Jasper was boiling water and grinding up something purple under Monty's direction. Monty was flitting back and forth, alternating between helping Raven and directing Jasper in preparing the plants.

Octavia and Clarke were together, out of the way, and Clarke was checking out Octavia's head wound. He made his way over to them. Octavia glared and turned slightly away. He debated trying to talk her down but he didn't want to have that conversation with an audience. Clarke glanced up at him then thrust a small, carved wooden bowl and a stick at him, "Stir that. I need to be able to spread it over a wound."

"Aye, aye, _Princess_."

She spared him an irritated glance but did not reply. He stirred, watching as the amber coloured goop became more liquid. "What is this stuff?"

It was Monty who answered him, coming up with a cup of that seaweed tea for Octavia. "It's tree sap and a little water. It'll work for closing wounds and preventing infection."

"Huh," he went to poke it but Clarke slapped his hand away. He raised an eyebrow at her in a look that would have sent most of the others running. Not Clarke though.

"Don't touch it! When was the last time you washed your hands? Actually, I don't want to know. If you're staying up here go with Monty. He'll show you what to do. Octavia, drink this. I know it's gross, but it's good for you."

"Yeah, yeah. Good thing I've never been picky," Octavia grumbled and chugged the liquid, "Ugh. Ick."

Bellamy turned to Monty, who shrank back a little from the look that was still on his face but nonetheless, he gestured for Bellamy to follow him across the space.

"Hold out your hands," Bellamy did not. Just intensified his glare so Monty started to talk, more nervously than before. "Uh, so Clarke said we need to be careful about infections, since we don't have much to treat them, so we..."

"...made a paste with a couple of plants that Monty remembers are antibacterial. And if you want to help, use it." Clark's snapped, coming up from behind Bellamy.

He opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself. Clarke was pale, her jaw was set, and her posture was so rigid she looked ready to snap. So he reigned himself in and turned back to Monty. "What's in it?"

Monty looked nervously between him and Clarke but then Raven called for him and he edged away in relief. "Lemon grass, mint and some kind of tree bark that I can't think of the name of right now. Monty will know, if you need to wait for him, oh _fearless_ leader."

He eyed her. Was she trying to bait him? He held out his hand and she scooped out a chunk of the paste into his palm. "Rub it in for a couple of minutes then rinse."

He did as she asked. It was rough, probably the chunks of bark, but it smelled good. "You two have been busy."

"Yeah well. Maybe you'd accomplish more if you quit hosting orgies in your tent." Her tone was sharp, and from the corner of his eye he saw Octavia, who had joined Jasper, glance over at them and then away.

And that, right there, was the limit of his patience with her. He straightened to his full height, ready to rip into her, only to see she had her hand out, palm facing him, and her eyes squeezed shut. He paused and waited for her to open her eyes. She locked a hand around the back of her neck, knotted it in her already tangled hair and tugged. When her eyes opened and she looked up at him they were glassy. "I'm sorry. That was awful. I'm awful. I just..."

She trailed off, closed her eyes again and took a couple of deep breaths. "I don't know if I can do this."

Bellamy's anger deflated. Hadn't he always been a sucker for a crying girl? He held out his hands, and she startled before she grabbed the clean water and poured it for him. He rinsed, and shook his hands dry before speaking, "How is Spacewalker?"

She glanced over at Finn, "Stable, for now. Leaving the knife in seems to be keeping the bleeding to a minimum. We're keeping an eye on his pulse, temp and respiratory rate," she gestured to an open crate Bellamy had never seen before that contained various medical instruments, "my mom packed a kit into the shuttle that Raven came down in so we're in better shape than we would have been a few days ago. I can even manage a blood transfusion but unless he wakes up enough to tell us his type..." She trailed off.

"You can do that?"

"Mmm. You learn how to draw blood pretty early on as an apprentice."

Bellamy digested that. He assumed her skills were second hand, learned from tagging along with her mom, because he had assumed that she was the same age as Octavia. Kids on the Ark began half-day apprenticeships at 16 and then full time at 17. "How long were you an apprentice for?"

"Almost a year."

She seemed to calm down the more she talked. Bellamy recalled something from the mandatory biological sciences classes he'd taken, "Isn't there a universal blood donor? O, or something."

She looked surprised (which was a little offensive) but replied, "O negative. It's incredibly rare, and even if someone down here has it, there are still risks."

"Raven doesn't know his blood type?"

"Nope. Already asked."

"What's your blood type? Just in case."

She quirked a small smile, "Look at you, thinking ahead."

He rolled his eyes, but her tone lacked bite so he just nudged her with his elbow, "You should be thrilled, Doc."

"A positive. It's pretty common. You?"

"B positive. Octavia too."

"Hopefully I don't need to use that information in the near future."

"For once, I will not argue with you."

She smiled again, a little wider this time, "I'll take it."

She turned so she was beside him, leaning against the wall. They watched as Monty, who had joined Jasper and Octavia again, began gesturing with a stalk of leaves. Octavia listened attentively as he talked about the different uses of the plants they were preparing.

"She's good at this stuff you know."

"Yeah?" He'd noticed but he wasn't surprised. Octavia had never been squeamish and she soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Probably due to how limited her world had been on the arc. She'd devoured books and movies and anything she could get her hands on to fill the hours in their quarters.

"Yeah. I taught her how do sutures a few days ago and she might even be better than me. She said your mom was a seamstress."

"Hmm. Yeah. Fastest on the Ark. O did a bunch of her work but of course no one knew that."

He saw her start to say something from the corner of his eye but stopped herself, "You want to know why, don't you? Why Octavia was born?"

"It's really none of my business."

He snorted, genuinely amused.

She eyed him curiously, "Why is that funny?"

"No reason."

"Bellamy."

"I wouldn't want to ruin this semi pleasant conversation by making you mad."

"I'm pretty sure that's an inevitability, so go right ahead."

"Alright. I just thought about how willing you usually are to stick your nose in everyone else's business so..."

Her jaw dropped, but he could tell the outrage was at least partially feigned, "Only when I have a good reason!"

"If you say so."

She glared at him one last time, before leaning forward to check on Raven's progress, and then glance at the watch she always wore. "I gave Raven two hours. And then I'll have to go ahead and remove the knife and hope I can save him."

"How much longer?"

"Fifteen minutes."

They lapsed into silence. Clarke began to fidget, "I should say thanks."

"To me? Shocking."

She elbowed him, "Shut up. You got Octavia back, carried Finn through the jungle, and got everyone in camp organized and inside. What did I do? I found a couple spare parts and told Raven I had sex with her boyfriend." Clarke grimaced, "Please forget I just said that."

Bellamy glanced at her, "For now. No promises about later. I had you pegged for a good girl, Princess."

"Shut up."

"No really. I think I might like you more now that I know you're not a robot."

"Bellamy."

"Fine. Shutting up. Until you've saved Finn's life, at least. And had a nap."

"Deal."

They lapsed into silence again, but it was more comfortable than any they'd shared before.

"My dad died," Bellamy said, before she could start overthinking again.

She gave him an odd look, "Uh, mine too?"

"Just before my mom found out she was pregnant with Octavia. That's why she kept it a secret. She knew they'd make her end it and she couldn't bear that with him being gone."

He watched her study her watch again. "I guess I understand that." She held up her wrist to him, "My dad's. He gave it to me just before they floated him. The guards tried to take it from me to put on the tracking bracelet and I kind of lost it. What happened to your dad?"

"Cancer."

"Sorry." He looked at her and could tell that she meant it. Major illnesses quickly used up the max medical supplies allotted so generally the patient chose to say goodbye to their families and then end it. "I remember him at least. Octavia only had a few pictures and the stories my mother told."

Before she could reply Raven jumped up and let out a shrill whistle, "I think I almost have it! Monty, get your ass over here. Clarke, get ready. You're almost up."

Clarke straightened up from the wall and he watched her as she closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. As much as this girl pissed him off he couldn't help but respect her at times like these. For as soft as she appeared on the outside she was all fire and steel at her core. She looked him in the eye, "I'm going to need you to stay. We're going to tie him down but we might need you to help hold him still."

He nodded and she turned away from him. "Octavia, are you okay to assist?"

"I'll be fine."

"Come wash up again then, just to be safe."

She pulled a box out of the crate of new medical supplies and began laying instruments out. She talked to Octavia, naming each shiny silver object. Octavia listened closely and nodded when she was done, "Okay. Got it."

"Jasper, wash up. You're Octavia's backup. We shouldn't need you but, well, never say never."

"If earth has taught us anything it's that," Jasper said as he started scrubbing his hand with the paste, "Two headed Deer? Check. Man eating snake monsters? Seen one of those. Grounders..."

"We get it, Jasper," Octavia scolded. Jasper made a stupid face at her and she laughed.

"We're connected!" Raven exclaimed. "Hello? Ark this is earth calling, please come in."

Everyone was tense, waiting for a reply. For a long minute there was nothing but static in the air and on the monitor.

"Earth... Ark... Gregory in... tions. What's your... are alive?"

"Shit! Hold on. Come on. Come on!" They watched as Raven and Monty frantically made adjustments until the picture became clearer. Bellamy turned away from the screen and backed away slightly. No need for the fugitive to be front and centre.

"Earth? This is the Ark. Cadet Gregory in communications, speaking. What's your status? How many of you are alive?"

"Ha! We did it." Raven slapped Monty an enthusiastic high five while Clarke stepped up to the screen.

"I need to be patched to my mother, Dr. Abby Griffin, immediately. I have a medical emergency."

"But protocol..."

"_We're_ on earth. _You_ sent us here like lab rats to possibly die. Do you really think I care about _your_ protocol?"

Bellamy found himself suppressing a smile. Really, Clarke had balls. He didn't even mind when she was telling off someone else.

"If you want a status report you will get my mother now, and I'll tell you everything you want to know after."

"But..."

"Now Gregory!"

Cadet Gregory wavered visibly for a few long moments, "Fine. But I'm alerting Chancellor Jaha and Councilman Kane and sending them to your mother's location."

"Wonderful," Clarke bit out.

There was more static on the screen and a woman Bellamy recognized materialized on the screen. "Dr. Griffin..." she started and then glanced at the screen and stopped, stunned, "Clarke. Clarke you're..."

"Alive. Relatively safe and on earth."

"I thought..."

"I know. I have an emergency here and I need your help."

Bellamy studied Clarke, her tone was all business and kind of cold, not what he'd have expected considering how intent she'd been on saving the people who remained on the Ark, presumably her mother was on the top of the list of the reasons why.

Her mother paused for a moment, "Okay Clarke, what do you need?"

"I have a severe injury. A stab wound to the lower left abdomen."

Dr. Griffin was suddenly all business as well, "Patient name?"

"Finn Collins."

The doctor turned away, "Jackson, put Finn Collins' file on the main screen. Thanks." She turned back toward the screen, "Did... did a shuttle make it down to you?"

"Yes. I have your kit. Monty Green and I have also been able to find and utilize several native plants with medicinal purposes."

"And Raven..."

Raven popped her head next to Clarke's. "Made it in one piece!"

Dr. Griffin smiled, and for the first time Bellamy saw a resemblance between mother and daughter. "I'm glad. Has the knife been removed?"

"No," Clarke replied.

"Good. Smart. How big is it?"

"Uh..." Clarke turned towards him.

Bellamy thought back, "Small. Four, five inches? I think it was bone."

If Clarke's mother recognized him, she gave no indication. "Bone? How did..."

"Long story," Clarke cut in, "You need to talk me through the removal and how to patch him up."

Her mother was silent for a moment, "Clarke..." she started gently, "the odds... with the supplies on hand..."

"No. No. We've lost too many already, I have to try," she squared her shoulders and stared hard at the monitor, "I am going to try."

"Okay. I trust you Clarke, I believe in you."

Clarke nodded and they all looked up as the sound of rain beating against metal started up.

The screen flickered for a moment but came back and Clarke looked to Raven, "Will the connection hold?"

Raven shrugged helplessly, "Depends on how bad the storm is. Rain, some wind? It should be fine. A lot of wind? Lightening? We might lose it."

Clarke sighed, and turned back to her mother, "We've found that the best way to survive earth is to plan for the worst, so the sooner you tell me how to do this, the better. O, come here and listen with me, but don't touch anything."

Octavia walked closer to the screen and said, "Hello again, Dr. Griffin."

"Octavia Blake. Good to see you again, though you look a little banged up."

"Yeah. Turns out earth is way more dangerous than my hole in the floor."

If either the doctor or Clarke objected to Octavia's tone, neither gave any indication. Dr. Griffin proceeded to walk Clarke through what needed to be done and what the most likely outcomes of the steps were. She spoke calmly and clinically they all listened intently. She also supplied Finn's blood type and a list of several of The 100 who were a match. When she was done, Clarke stood still for a moment and then turned to the rest of them, "Okay. Let's do this. Jasper, Bellamy, tie him down. Then Bellamy, you're at his head. Jasper, at his legs. I'm going to be poking around in Finn's insides with sharp objects so he _can not_ move, got it?" She received two nods in return. "Octavia, you're on the left, with me, keeping an eye on the vitals. Monty, you're on the plants, and if I tell you I need blood, you're going down to go and find one of the kids my mother named. Raven I'm going to need you to monitor the comms and relay any questions I have."

As they all took their positions, Jasper spoke up, "Hey, you've got this, Clarke. You saved my life with seaweed and a hot metal knife a week ago. You've got fancy tools and weird plants now, so this should be easy for you."

"Yep," Monty agreed, "if I could pick anyone on earth to dig around in my guts it would be you."

"Me too," Octavia said.

"Me three," Raven called from behind them

Bellamy rolled his eyes but quietly said, "Me four."

Clarke met his eyes and smiled, "High praise, indeed, you guys, considering the current inhabitants of this planet. But thanks."

She wrapped her hands carefully around the hilt of the knife, "Here we go. Step one, remove knife. Quick and clean. On three. One. Two. Three..."


	2. The Most Terrible Poverty

**Authors Note: **I'm thrilled that so many of you liked the first chapter! The follows, faves and reviews were more than I expected from a brand new fandom and I'm grateful. I'll do my best to answer any questions posed along the way. Here is chapter 2. It's a Clarkefest. Title quote is from Mother Teresa this time, "Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty."

**The Most Terrible Poverty**

Clarke was tired, the kind of tired she hadn't even known existed before she'd set foot on earth. Tired seemed like too paltry a word for what she was.

Her first few weeks in solitary, back on the Ark, were the closest she'd come to this feeling. The cell she'd called home for just over a year was close to soundproof. Particularly loud shouts made it through the walls, though the words remained indistinct. She was occasionally jarred clang of metal striking metal but otherwise her cell remained silent.

Her only human contact was with the guards, who came twice a day. She was not allowed to speak to them when they brought her meals, and they were forbidden from speaking to her (lest she spill her secrets) beyond barking her assigned number (never her name) and whatever it was that they were ordering her to do. Stand. Face the wall. Sit. Stay. Eat. Simple things.

Clarke still remembered the sharp pain of a club across her cheekbone, that first day, when she'd been brought dinner and she'd opened her mouth to ask about her mother. The guard who'd done it had looked scared, rather than angry. All the guards she saw fell into those two categories, so much so that after awhile, she'd stopped recognizing them as individuals. Those that were angry hated her, for they believed that she'd betrayed them. She'd come to realize lately that maybe they'd been like Bellamy, and they simply hated her for who her parents were, and for who they assumed her to be (spoiled, selfish, a princess). Those that were scared simply feared the consequences the council had undoubtedly threatened to impose on those who spoke to her, all in an effort to keep their secret a little longer.

She spent most of that first month laying on the floor, watching the stars, the earth. She'd occasionally felt the vibrations of The Ark's machinery, familiar and comforting, the machines that her father had spent his adult life maintaining. Sometimes she felt the floor move in a different way, when a group walked past her door, heavy boots on the ground, and she'd remembered that there were people out there. Sleep had been hard to come by, at first. Clarke would drift off and she'd dream of her dad, of his face as he'd been jerked out of the airlock. She'd woken up gasping, crying, screaming. Always alone.

Eventually, though, sleep became a comfort. In her dreams she saw her father in different ways, happier ways. Dancing with her mother around their tiny living room. Singing, badly, just to make Clarke laugh. Helping Clarke with her math homework, puzzling over a piece of machinery he'd brought home with him. Food became secondary to sleep. She picked at her trays at first, but eventually left them all together. The guards noticed and she was brought to another room in what must have been the prison's med bay, so that they could make sure that she wasn't sick.

It hadn't been her mother, in that room. At the time Clarke had been glad. She was aware enough to know that she was being weak, that she'd been raised by strong parents, to be a strong person, and that she was better than this girl who had to be supported as she'd walked from her cell to this room, because she'd stumbled on her shaking knees. But it had been Jackson. Jackson who had started as her mother's apprentice when Clarke was just 9 years old, and had worked with Dr. Abigail Griffin ever since. Who'd occasionally sat with her family at meals and who'd patiently been helping to guide Clarke through the early stages of her own apprenticeship, before everything went wrong.

He'd called her Clarke. He wasn't angry, and he wasn't afraid of her. Because he knew her, because he knew she was more than prisoner 319. He checked her vitals, talking, explaining what he was doing, even though they both knew that she knew the routine. That she could perform the routine, and had done so dozens of times. Something about it though. The familiarity, the easy, logical pattern. It filtered through the fog she'd been in and her brain started firing. She wasn't Prisoner 319. She was Clarke Griffin, and she wasn't a quitter.

Jackson declared that she wasn't sick, just badly dehydrated and inserted an I.V. of fluids and vitamins. He'd waited for it to be done, silently flicking through something on his tablet, not speaking to her out of deference to the guard who was still in the room.

Clarke caught a glimpse of the screen though, saw the date that was displayed along the top and absorbed it into her now functioning mind. It had been 5 weeks and 6 days since her dad had been floated. 5 weeks and 5 days since she'd first set foot into her cell. When the I.V. was done, Jackson had taken his time removing it. He'd squeezed her elbow gently and looked her in the eye and he'd said, "Take care of yourself, Clarke."

And she'd nodded, and she'd forced herself to get off of the table without help. She'd walked back down the hallway under her own power. When she'd been escorted into her cell she'd turned around and watched the door shut. Then she went to the breakfast tray that was still sitting by the door and she ate every bite.

The next day she'd been given a pencil. She had no idea where it came from, or why she had received it, and wasn't able to ask, but she was grateful. The first thing she'd done was write down the date, and after that she kept a calendar. She made a mark every night, just after lights out. She made herself keep a schedule of sorts, using the sky outside and the timing of her meals to divide the day. She paced her cell, she jogged in place. She did all the exercises she could recall from her physical conditioning classes. She refused to be weak, ever again.

She thought about what she would say, when she got re-judged. How she'd convince the council that her father had been right, and not a traitor. She made herself run through her medical training, and even dredged up long forgotten school lessons. She thought about her mother, about her friends, and did not allow herself to think about Wells.

And she drew, of course.

And nearly a year went by like that. She ran out of her cell for the last time, terrified, 1 year, 3 weeks and 2 days, after she'd first set foot into it. She ran into her mother's arms. She found out that they were sending her to earth, and that she might very well die. And then she felt a jolt and a sting, and then she felt nothing.

* * *

The exhaustion she felt now was different. It wasn't that passive heaviness that she'd lived with in her cell. It was in her bones, in her muscles, in her joints. In her brain and in her eyes. It was the result of spikes of adrenaline, of physical exertion, of emotional turmoil, of mental burnout.

They'd managed to save Finn, for now. Any number of complications could still kill him, but she'd deal with those if they came.

The procedure had started off promising, she'd removed the knife and handed it off to Octavia, who had examined it and declared it intact, removing the necessity of rooting around for fragments that could have migrated from the wound when his body was transported. Her luck, or Finn's luck maybe, failed them then, because the bleeding was more extensive then she'd hoped for. She'd had to open the wound further and they'd used enough of the surgical sponges in the kit that they'd be in trouble if anything catastrophic happened before they could get re-supplied or find a natural alternative.

Finn had woken up, while her hand was inside his abdomen, while she was feeling around his small intestine looking for tears. Clarke hadn't noticed at first but Bellamy had. He'd slammed a forearm onto Finn's chest and held him down and Jasper had done the same at Finn's legs. Finn had screamed, confused and in pain. Clarke had hesitated and Bellamy had barked, "Keep going, Clarke," and she'd jolted, and continued to work, though she could feel tears stinging her eyes. He'd talked quietly to Finn, telling him to calm down, that he'd be OK. After what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes Finn had passed out again. She'd located the tear and stitched it up. It was the third out of four that she found. When the bleeding seemed to be contained she removed the sponges, trusting that Octavia had an accurate count, because she knew that she did not.

She'd closed the wound and covered it in the paste that they'd made, that would hopefully help fight infection and laid clean bandages over top. Monty had found Tim Bartlett, one of the boys with the same blood type as Finn, and he'd agreed to donate in exchange for Bellamy's promise of extra rations for a week. She'd shown Octavia how to set up the transfusion as she was doing it, just in case, then supervised the transfer to ensure that Tim wasn't losing too much and then sent Tim down with Monty with thanks and instructions to eat something and rest.

It was only then that she registered the sounds from outside, and noticed that the storm had intensified. There were lines of static running across the monitor. And the last thing she wanted to do, in that moment, was give the Ark a status report. She wanted a moment to herself but that wasn't going to happen. A deal was a deal and she'd given her word.

So she washed her hands, stripped off her outer shirt which was streaked with blood (that was going to be a pain to get out) and approached the monitor again. Octavia was finishing the cleanup, gathering anything that could be boiled and reused, and keeping everything that was ruined in a separate pile that they would burn once the storm was done. Then Octavia, was to join Bellamy and Jasper and try to get some rest, (though she'd protested that she was fine) since she was injured and Jasper and Bellamy had spent the day running around the mountain fending off grounder attacks. Monty and Raven were to monitor Finn, and do their best to maintain communication with the Ark.

When she approached Raven, Clarke noticed that the other girls eyes were red and puffy. Clarke didn't know if she'd just been too preoccupied to notice that the other girl had been crying, or if, as was more likely, Raven had done her best to hide it. She managed a tired smile, "He's healthy, Raven. Strong. I think he'll pull through."

Raven smiled back, and then hugged Clarke, quick and hard, "Thank you, Clarke," and then moved away to give Clarke space.

When Clarke turned to the monitor she saw that the Chancellor (Wells' dad, her traitorous heart reminded her) and Kane were visible with her mother. She assumed the remaining four Council members were present in the room and listening to her. She'd been taught to be polite, of course. To respect her elders and had she been there on the Ark, had she never been sent to earth, she probably would have been deferential. To wait to speak, until spoken to.

But she was on earth. And that group of people had sent her there. Had considered her, and 99 others, expendable. Had voted to kill another 300 more, and ejected their bodies into space not 24 hours ago. And so she was angry. At her mother most of all. And she decided that if they had so little respect for human life, then she had little respect for them.

She skipped the titles and any pleasantries when she addressed them, "I said I'd answer your questions, so I will. I warn you that there's a storm down here and it's getting worse. I don't know if the feed will hold, so prioritize accordingly."

Someone behind her sputtered and coughed, but she ignored them.

Her mother began, "The tracking bracelets indicated mass casualties, can you give us a number?"

"We've lost eleven people. Eight are dead, three are missing and presumed dead."

"I need names, so that families may be notified," said Jaha. Clarke was yet again surprised at how one man could be one thing in public, in his role as chancellor, and another in private, like she remembered him with Wells and her dad.

"Causes of death too, or as near as you can tell," added Kane. Clarke knew him too, through her parents, but unlike Jaha he'd never I thawed much in private.

"Fine. Two in the landing," her mother supplied their names and Clarke was ashamed to realize she hadn't known them. "It was a rough landing and they removed their harnesses before it was safe and died on impact." Clarke fixed her eyes on the monitor and allowed her vision to blur, so that she could no longer read the faces on it. "Atom. He sustained severe burns to most of his body in some kind of acid fog. We were too late to help him and he was in extreme pain. I opened up his carotid artery and he bled out in minutes. Around that time both Trina and Pascale went missing from base camp. We assume that they got lost and succumbed either to the acid fog or some other danger. Wells Jaha..." she cleared her throat and blinked back the tears that she refused to shed, "Wells was killed by another in our camp, in retaliation for the death of her parents, who were floated on the orders of Wells' father." She didn't, couldn't, pause in her recitation to gauge the reaction of the faces on the monitor, or she wasn't sure if she could continue, "Charlotte confessed to killing Wells. She jumped off a cliff. John Murphy was banished. Without supplies or shelter, we assume him to be dead. John Mbege, Diggs and Roma were killed today. By the Grounders."

"The Grounders," Kane repeated slowly.

"Yes. Apparently, the Ark was not, in fact, the last of humanity."

"That's... That's not possible."

Someone snorted incredulously behind her, she'd have bet just about anything that it was Bellamy. "I think that those of us on the ground are in a better position to judge what is possible and is not possible." Clarke turned around. No one appeared to be sleeping yet, "Jasper, come here a second." He stood up and came toward her, seeming nervous. She addressed the monitor again, "On our second day on earth, after a group of us walked 20 miles to get to Mount Weather, good job to whoever programmed the flight plan, by the way, Jasper here, was impaled through the chest with a spear." Clarke let them stew on that for a moment, and turned to Jasper, who was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. "Jasper, meet The Council. Chancellor Jaha, Councilman Kane, Councilwoman Griffin, meet Jasper."

Jasper waved tentatively, "Uh, hi. I mean hello."

"The grounder's then patched him up, dragged him through the forest and then strung him up as bait. Almost a day passed before he was found."

"Bait for what?" Kane asked, still skeptical.

"Some kind of large cat? Maybe a cougar. We ate it."

"You ate it?"

"We were hungry and the supplies housed at Mount Weather, if anything remains, are too dangerous to get to. We're making due."

"So these... Grounders. How many of them are there?"

"We don't know. Until today, they've kept their distance. We've seen maybe six of them?" She turned to Jasper again, and he indicated that he agreed with her, "We have assumed that they are hostile."

"And now you think they aren't?"

Clarke shared a look with Jasper. Octavia had told her what had happened while Clarke had worked on her wounds. The younger girl was adamant that the Grounder who had taken her had protected her, and he had done a good job of setting her leg. Jasper remained unconvinced. "There's... been some debate on that point."

"Please. Enlighten us." Kane again. Still obviously doubtful. As if he thought they were children playing make believe.

Clarke was having none of that, "No."

"No?" he repeated.

"You heard me," Clarke said and a crack of thunder rumbled through the drop ship. Jasper was shifting uncomfortably from where he still stood beside her, "the storm's getting worse. And the Grounders are, at this point in time, our problem, not yours, especially since you seem to be doubting their existence. There are more important things you need to know, before you decide to kill more people."

"Clarke Griffin," he mother began, in the tone that had always meant trouble when she was a kid.

But Kane spoke over her, "It is not your job, Miss Griffin, to tell us what is and what is not important. I have doubts, because every single spec of data that we have pointed to earth being completely unfit for human occupation. We've never had a single point of contact with anyone on earth in 97 years. If you remember your lessons, you'll remember that the earliest members of our community tried for years to make contact, hoping that there were survivors. I'm supposed to trust the word of one girl? One girl, convicted of treason, with a history of mental episodes?"

Clarke was outraged, "I do not..."

"Hey," Jasper cut in, "It's not just her. I saw them too."

"Several people saw them. Several people are dead, because of them. And you know damn well that I am not a traitor. And neither was my father."

More thunder and the screen stuttered, "Raven, we're losing it!"

Raven came up, "It's the storm, I think. It's interfering with the transmission."

Clarke leaned closer to the monitor, "Can you still hear me?"

"Yes, Clarke," it was the Chancellor who spoke this time.

"You sent us here, to test the earth. We've seen evidence that it has changed, in 97 years. We've seen animals and plants unlike any we were told to expect and some that are recognizable, just mutated. We've drunk the water, we've eaten the plants and the animals. Not a single person has shown evidence of radiation poisoning. So if you were testing the earth to see if it could sustain us, than the earth passes."

"Thank you, Clarke. We'll need to hold a council meeting to discuss what the best course of action is."

"I'm not finished, Chancellor."

"Clarke," her mother snapped, "I don't know what..."

Clarke laughed, though she felt not an ounce of genuine amusement. She felt bitter and she felt jaded and so, so disappointed in the people she had been taught to trust. "You don't know what I'm doing? Who I am? Join the club, mom. I'm doing the best I can here. We all are." Clarke spoke directly to her mother for the first time since she'd completed Finn's surgery. "I know it was you, mom. I know it was you who told the council what dad was planning. And right now I don't know if I'll ever forgive you." She felt eyes on her. All the eyes in this room, all the eyes in that room on the Ark and she hated it.

"Clarke..." her mother's voice was weak, broken, as if she too were fighting tears.

But Clarke didn't have the time for tears. She focused on Jaha and on Kane, because what she was going to say next, she needed to say to them. She felt Raven take her hand and Jasper by her side. "I'm sorry about Wells, Chancellor. You know I am. But you sent us down here. Humans can live here. _We_ are going to live here. I hope that you decide to send more people down because I, unlike you, do not believe that human life is expendable. I hope even more, that you give people the choice to come down here. To try. Your message said that our crimes would be forgiven, and I'm going to hold you to that." She squeezed Raven's hand, "Including the crimes of others, committed to aide us down here."

"Like Bellamy Blake?" Kane asked.

She'd been thinking of Raven, actually. And her mother, even. She glanced back at Bellamy for a moment and found him tense, watching her warily, as though he expected her to turn on him.

"Like Bellamy Blake," she agreed. And wished that she could see his face. He pushed her, underestimated her and she would have loved to see the shock that had surely been there.

"He shot..." Kane began.

"Chancellor Jaha, we know. I won't pretend that I condone his actions. But he's done a lot for us down here."

Kane scoffed, "You can't ask us to..."

Clarke interrupted him again, loudly. "You're not getting what I'm saying here! I'm not asking you to do anything. I'm telling you. You said we were expendable. That our crimes meant that we deserved to die. You thought we'd be poisoned minutes after the hatch opened. You spared us no food, no supplies. You disavowed us. So we disavow you. We are no longer citizens of The Ark, we are citizens of earth. Your rules no longer apply to us. We make our own rules."

"Young lady," Kane started.

Clarke wasn't about to be bullied, "Cut the feed, Raven."

"Wha... Clarke are you sure?"

"I'm sure. We'll contact you again in three days' time, assuming we are able."

"Clarke. Honey, wait a minute..." her mother pleaded but Clarke turned away and nodded to Raven and she pulled wires until the screen went dark, and the audio faded.

Clarke turned away from the monitors and collapsed back against the wall. She allowed herself to sink to the floor before she looked around. They were all staring at her, minus Finn, who was still unconscious.

Thunder rocked the ship once again.

It was Octavia who broke the silence, "I take back everything bad that I thought about you those first two days, Clarke Griffin, because that? Was awesome!"

"Completely nuts," Raven added, sliding down beside Clarke, "and maybe a touch melodramatic..."

"Disavow is an excellent word," Monty chimed in.

"But awesome, nonetheless," Raven continued.

Clarke sighed, "I didn't mean to speak for everyone, I know a lot of us still have people on The Ark, but... I don't know. I spent hours in solitary, thinking about what I'd say to them on my 18th birthday."

"Uh, hopefully it wasn't that. That would have got you floated for sure," Jasper pointed out.

Clarke laughed. A real laugh, this time. "No, I know. I'm not entirely sure where that all came from. Maybe I have gone crazy."

"Have you been sampling the plants without my supervision?" Monty teased.

This time they all laughed. And Clarke still felt tired and worried and hungry. But she also felt free.


	3. He Who Does Not Trust Enough

**Authors Notes**: Aaand here's chapter 3. You guys continue to blow me away with your reviews! In this chapter we check back in with Bellamy. Title is courtesy of Lao Tzu, "He who does not trust enough, will not be trusted." Thanks to those who fave, follow and especially review.

**He Who Does Not Trust Enough**

When the laughter dies down, the silence that follows is almost comfortable. More comfortable than Bellamy would have expected anyway, given the circumstances. The seven of them were practically strangers. Strangers who'd barely survived the previous ten days, and weren't guaranteed to survive the next ten. Hell, I'd be a miracle if Finn survived the next ten hours. Clarke was the first to get up, and she offered Raven a hand up as well. Bellamy eyed them curiously, and got to his feet shortly after. He hadn't been surprised when they had worked together to save Finn's life. Raven had risked her life, and effectively become a fugitive, to come down here on a rickety old ship for Finn, and Clarke had a colossal hero complex. He'd have expected a little tension to show through now that the immediate danger had passed, but their camaraderie remained easy.

Bellamy glanced towards Octavia and couldn't help but glower a little. She'd fallen asleep, finally, her head on Jasper's shoulder, with Monty on her other side. Monty was slowly slipping forward and to the right and he was going to end up half in Octavia's lap, if he stayed on his current trajectory.

Clarke laughed a little as she followed his gaze, "Relax, Bellamy. They're fine. They've slept like that before and Octavia was no worse for wear."

Bellamy turned towards her, this was the first he was hearing about any such sleeping arrangements, "What? When?"

"That first night, on the way to Mount Weather. Nothing bad happened that night, either."

He made a noncommittal noise. He still didn't have to like it.

Raven tilted her head to the side, "Yeah, leave 'em be. It's actually pretty friggin' adorable. And, let's be real here. Your sister could probably kick both of their asses."

"Plus, Octavia's pretty mad at you," Clarke informed him, as if that was something he didn't know, "something about you being a stubborn jackass who thinks he's always right?" She batted her eyes up at him with a smirk on her face.

"You sure those aren't your words there, Miss Griffin?" Bellamy said pointedly. He did a pretty fair impression of Councilman Kane, if he did say so himself.

"Eh," Raven eyed him, "they're accurate, no matter who said them."

Clarke smothered a yawn behind her hand, but not before he caught her smile.

"You," he pointed at Raven, "don't even know me. And you," he pointed at Clarke, "need to get some sleep before you fall over. You're useless to me if you crack your head open."

"Ugh, I wish," she stretched her arms over her head with a groan and an audible pop of her bones. Bellamy did his best to avoid watching her do it. The tank top she'd stripped down to was obviously ancient, and he'd memorized the pattern of holes in it as he'd stared at her back while she dealt with the Ark. "But I need to..."

But Raven interrupted her, "You should sleep, Clarke."

"But Finn..."

"I've had the basic first aid training. Check his pulse, watch his temp, make sure he keeps breathing. I can handle it. I'll wake you up if things start to go tits up."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure. I'm honestly not that tired. Plus I've got eight days of cushy Ark living over you. Go. Sleep," she jerked a thumb back towards the group already huddled on the floor, "make it a foursome."

Clarke rolled her eyes at the word choice but walked over to the wall and settled down next to Monty. "You should sleep too, Bellamy. Tomorrow..." she trailed off as she drifted away.

Raven was focused on Finn, her hand on his forehead. Bellamy figured that he really should check in with everyone on the main deck before he rested. He opened the hatch, and climbed down the ladder. A quick survey of the room showed mostly sleeping bodies. A few people were awake and talking quietly and as he picked his way across the room he came across a small group using rocks and a chalk grid, crookedly drawn on the floor, to play checkers. He found Monroe leaning against the doors. She was still awake and he crouched down next to her, "Any problems?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle. A couple of fights. I repeated your threat and they backed off rather than sleep in the rain. How'd it go up there?"

"Good. Spacewalker's still breathing. Clarke talked to the Ark."

"Oh? Did they officially coronate her as our earth emperor? Shall I curtsey in the morning?"

Bellamy snorted, "Like you know how to curtsey. But no, actually. She pretty much told them to fuck off." Monroe looked at him incredulously. "Yeah. Shocked the shit outta me too."

Monroe digested that. Her parents, Bellamy knew, both worked menial jobs on the Ark, and her father had been in an accident when she was still pretty young. His foot had been crushed, which made it difficult for him to work at all. Monroe had been busted for fighting for credits, in the underground ring that sprung up from time to time. People bet Ark credits and watched two people beat the shit out of each other. Nigel had a hand in it, as she did in all the shady things that went down on the Ark, and made a tidy profit. So Monroe's disdain for Clarke, and for Clarke's easy ride on the Ark, had pretty much matched his own.

"She shut them down when Kane started to try to throw his weight around," Bellamy told her. "We'll make contact again in a few days." She nodded, but didn't say anything else. "Get some sleep if you can," but he wasn't sure if she would. Roma had been a good friend of Monroe's and she hadn't liked that they'd had to leave Roma's body behind to find Octavia, and then to get Finn back to base camp. "I'll be," he pointed up to the hatch and turned to go, but paused, "Thanks for today, Monroe. You did good out there."

She blinked at him, stunned. His leadership style was, admittedly more rod than carrot, but he figured it couldn't hurt to show a little gratitude. She'd risked her life today and he knew he'd have to ask her to do it again. She nodded at him and he stepped around the sleeping bodies to the ladder, and climbed up again.

Raven glanced up at him as he closed the hatch. His looked past her, his eyes automatically went to Octavia, who hadn't moved much at all. He noted that Clarke was the only one of the four that was still pretty much upright, before he turned back to Raven. She was studying him, so he looked right back at her. He knew less about Raven than he knew about anyone else who'd come down from the Ark. Only that she was, apparently, some kind of genius mechanic, that she was Finn's girlfriend, and that she found Bellamy not the least bit intimidating.

And that she'd had the basic first aid training. Bellamy had had it too, it was a requirement, on the Ark, and it had to be completed before you transitioned from apprentice to wage earning worker. It meant that she was at least 18, and therefore the second oldest person on earth, if one did not include the Grounders.

"So you robbed the cradle with that one, eh?" He gestured at Finn.

She continued to stare at him, but she replied evenly, "Finn's barely a year and a half younger than I am, thank you. And you don't have much room to throw stones, Mr. Orgiesinyourtent."

Of course she'd heard that. Monty and Jasper undoubtedly had too, but they'd never dare say anything to his face.

Raven continued to speak, "I hope that you're at least sticking to the ones that are over 16 and have the implant. The last thing the earth needs is Baby Blakes running around."

That was another Ark rule. Teen pregnancy was strictly outlawed and girls were given an implant to prevent conception until they were at least 21. Bellamy knew that. He hadn't, however, been paying much attention to the ages of the girls and boys who he knew to be sneaking off into the forest alone. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they'd been doing and Bellamy hadn't much cared. But Raven was right about one thing. A baby, at this point, would be a disaster, so maybe he'd need to monitor that a little more closely. Still, he was pissed at Raven's presumption on his extracurricular activities. He would never screw around with a 15 year old.

"Maybe you should worry less about what I've been doing and more about what he's been doing," he tapped the surface Finn was laid out on.

He expected her to flare up in anger but was surprised when she seemed to deflate, "Does everyone know about that?"

Since it wasn't any fun to pick on someone who wasn't pushing back, he answered honestly, "I don't think so. Clarke didn't even mean to tell me but she blurted it out earlier when she was freaking out. She's not real popular down here so I doubt she told anyone else. You'd know better than I would if Finn's the bragging type."

"He's not," she replied quietly. She avoided his gaze when she continued talking, "Clarke said he didn't tell her about me."

Bellamy felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, "And you're asking me if she's lying?"

"I don't think she's lying. Not really. It's just..." and now she did look at him, squarely in the eye, a look of resolve clearly on her face. "Look, I don't really know anybody down here. You're not a bullshitter, Bellamy. And you don' t care enough about me to try to spare my feelings. So, if you have any, I don't know, light to shed on the situation, please do. I'll owe you one."

Bellamy considered. It wouldn't really cost him anything to give her his opinion, and he could always use a debt to his advantage later on. "Fine. Your boy there and I aren't exactly buddies but I will say that I had no idea that he had you, had anybody, back on the Ark. I'll also say that he seems to have a thing for the underdog, and down here, that's sort of Clarke. He's stepped up for her. But he also stepped up for Wells, and for Jasper. For Charlotte. She didn't chase him. If anything, at first, she seemed annoyed by him. He's the one who started calling her princess. Clarke's always had a plan, a mission she had to complete, and he's the one that followed her."

Raven's lips twisted wryly. "That's kind of what I figured. Damn. It'd be easier if I could hate her guts, you know?"

Bellamy found that amusing as it mirrored many of the thoughts he had about Clarke kicking around in his own brain, "Yeah. I do know."

Something in his tone caught her interest as she was again studying him in a way that he didn't quite like. Bellamy had the feeling that Raven saw way more than he wanted her to. "You don't hate her, I can tell. So why are you trying so hard?"

"Are you kidding? Her mom runs medical. Her dad was the head engineer. That girl has never known a second of hunger. She's never been cold. She probably attended fucking tea parties with Jaha and Kane after they floated another poor bastard."

Raven scoffed, "And now you're being melodramatic. No wonder you two can't just get along."

"Melodramatic?" his voice was getting louder and he forced himself to continue, in a quieter tone, "I hate the council that judged my mother. That put my sister in prison, when she'd done nothing wrong, and that's melodramatic?"

"Let me ask you something, do you really want to be held accountable for everything your parents did?"

"I was," he snapped, thinking of his demotion, from guard (even though he'd been damn good at it) to custodian.

"And was that right?" she snapped back. "My mother was a drunk and a whore and I give her no credit for the fact that I made it to adulthood. If anyone said that I was just like her, well, they never said it a second time." Raven paused and took a deep breath, "I know you don't know me. But I have no love for the council. None. At all. Like you, I don't come from much. But I have another question for you. Did you give much thought to what would happen when you shot Jaha?"

"No. I wasn't given a lot of time. A gun and twenty minutes before the ship launched."

"Well, I guess that explains why you did such a sloppy job of it. With Jaha out of commission Kane started running the show. Does that sound like a good idea to you? For anybody?" Bellamy shook his head, because it didn't. He'd knew more of Kane than the other council members, having gone through guard training. Kane was cold, and condescending, and exactly what Bellamy had expected of those that ran the Ark. "Dr. Griffin, Clarke's mom, worked her ass off to save Jaha. You should probably say thank you, if you ever meet her, otherwise your status of 'not a murderer' would be different. Dr. Griffin broke the med distribution laws to save Jaha and Kane arrested her. Way I heard it she was in the airlock and Kane had his hand on the release when Jaha stumbled up and pardoned her. What does that tell you?"

"Uh, that Clarke's mom is apparently above all the laws Jaha's so high on!"

Raven stared at him blankly for a few moments before she scrubbed a frustrated hand across her face, "Seriously? Is this you being a stubborn jackass again, or are you actually a moron?"

"Just make your damn point."

"My point, is that you hate the council. You think they don't give a shit about the people who grow their food, or make their clothes, or clean up their messes. I thought that too. And then I met Clarke's mom. Dr. Abby's a bad ass, man."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. She didn't want to gas those people to buy more time for everyone else. That's how I met her. She got the council to give her time to prove that earth was an option. She lost it when Clarke's bracelet went dark, and then they all did. Since they couldn't contact you, she got me to fix that shuttle. No one knew that they sent the juvenile prisoners down here. I started poking around and she could have easily gotten me floated for treason. She was going to come down herself but I said I'd only do the repairs if I could come too. And then we ran out of time. She went to Nigel, she was so desperate. And then she stalled so that I could get off the Ark, and get down here. I was honestly surprised to see her working when we got in touch with earlier."

"So? What? Dr. Griffin cares? One of them's not so bad, so I should assume they're all actually upstanding citizens who really do care about the little people?" Bellamy asked sarcastically.

"Of course not. Do I really seem like I'm the type to believe that shit? I know better, like you know better. I'm just saying that maybe you should judge Clarke by what she does which, from where I'm sitting, seems to be trying to keep everyone, including you and your sister, alive."

He didn't really have a rebuttal for that so he turned away, "I'll consider it. I'm going to sleep."

"You do that," she said and he detected a hint of satisfaction in her tone but he let it go. He really needed to sleep. There was a lot that needed to be done, on earth, just to meet their basic needs. Tomorrow would be no exception.

* * *

When Bellamy woke up he had a crick in his neck, and his whole body was stiff from sleeping on the floor. But other than that, he felt pretty good. More rested than he had in a while, at least. He was also alone on the floor, but Octavia was standing next to Finn, brewing up a batch of the seaweed tea. He cleared his throat and she looked at him but didn't speak. Still mad, then. This was unusual. Octavia had never been able to stay mad at him for very long before. He stood and stretched, and noted that a hammock had been strung up in the opposite corner and blonde hair spilled over the side. "What time is it?"

Octavia shrugged, "Morning?" she answered. "It's been light for two or three hours, at least."

"Any change?" he gestured to Finn.

"Clarke said he woke up just after 4am but that he was pretty out of it. Still, she said it was a good sign."

He heard footsteps on the ladder and Raven came in to rummage through the toolbox she and Monty had cobbled together, "Look who finally decided to get up. Your minions," she said to Bellamy, "are cleaning up the camp. That tall girl and the dude with the shaved head have them hustling in your absence. Be sure to give them gold stars."

"Excuse me. Clarke's asleep too, and I bet I won't hear you hassling her."

"Clarke," Raven said, clearly exasperated, "slept for like two hours last night. She relieved me at about 3, and I managed to sleep for a bit. This one," and she pointed to Octavia, "and her boy-slaves got up just after sunrise. After they ate, Jasper set up the hammock and bullied Clarke into it."

Bellamy gave Octavia a skeptical look. Nobody bullied Clarke into much of anything, "I wouldn't say bullied," Octavia said thoughtfully, "It was more of a guilt trip."

That sounded far more plausible.

"Whatever it was, it worked," Raven found what she was looking for and came closer to Finn, "He hasn't woken up again?"

"No. Sorry. He's not running a fever though, so that's a good sign, right?"

She managed a small smile for Octavia, "Right. The storm knocked some of the panels off the side of the hull. Monty and I and a couple of others are fixing them. I figure the structural integrity of our best shelter is important."

"Yeah," Bellamy agreed. "Good call."

"Obviously," Raven said. "So that's where I'll be. O, you'll get me if anything changes?"

Octavia nodded and Raven left without saying anything else, leaving he and Octavia alone. "Hey," he began, "about what I said last night..." Bellamy trailed off, hoping she'd help him out a little. He wasn't much for apologies and with just about anyone else he wouldn't have bothered.

But Octavia was going to be difficult, and she merely crossed her arms and gestured for him to continue but he found himself floundering. "I... You... You know that I..."

She was unimpressed, "Really, Bellamy? Is that all you've got?"

He was getting annoyed, "You know Octavia, I'm not the only one who said some shitty things last night."

"You started it."

"I started it?!"

"Shush," she came around to stand beside him, "You'll wake Clarke up. You know you did."

He crossed his arms and glared at her, "You know you did," she repeated. "But, Jasper told me something this morning and I've been thinking about it."

"Oh did he? I'm sure it was brilliant and I cannot wait to hear it."

"He said," she ignored his sarcasm, "that yesterday you kept saying that I was your sister, and that I was your responsibility. And I've been sitting here and I remember mom saying that to you. She said it a lot."

"Yeah," he confirmed, "ever since you were born."

"And I've been thinking that it wasn't fair to you, Bell."

"O..." he said, but had to stop for a second as his throat felt tight, "You know I didn't mean what I said at the gate. I wouldn't trade you for anything."

She looked up and smiled, quick and bright. Then she punched him in the arm, hard. "You can't say things like that when I'm trying to be mad at you, Bellamy!" But she hugged him, and he knew they'd be okay. She pulled away, "But I think we need to agree to accept that it's on mom."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I loved her. And I'm glad that I'm alive. Nothing can change the past and we've both paid for her actions. Neither of us had a choice. And really, what could we have done differently? She'd have been floated, no matter what, and that's on her, so I think we need to just let it go."

"Just like that?"

"I'm not an idiot, Bellamy. I know it won't be that easy. But we're on earth, something I never thought possible. So I'm going to try. And I think that you should too. And I don't want to be your responsibility."

He bristled, "Octavia..."

"No, no. Calm down. I didn't mean it like that. You're my family Bell, and I know you're going to try to protect me. I'm going to try to protect you too. But I'm not a little kid. I want to be my own responsibility."

"O…" he started.

"I mean it Bellamy. Like Clarke was saying last night. I want to choose. And you're not always going to like my choices."

"I'll bet."

But Octavia kept going, "I'm going to have friends, Bellamy. And I don't care if you don't like them. Jasper saved my life, more than once. I'm going to hang out with Raven. I don't know her that well, but she made fun of you this morning, and I think I like that in a person."

"Of course you do."

"And," she waved her finger directly in his face, "I'm going to be friends with Clarke, because I like her, even if you think I shouldn't. I'm going to learn this healing stuff. I'm going to bug you about being nicer to her, because I think she actually has some good ideas. I'm going to learn to use a weapon, too. And to fight, because I'm sick of having to be saved!"

"Octavia…"

"I know it's going to be hard for you Bell, but you can't just dismiss everything I say. You have to listen to me and let me make my own choices. You can't force me to live in this ship, or stay within the walls. I won't live in a box again. I'd rather die."

"Octavia stop. This maturity thing you've got going on is starting to freak me out," he teased. "Should I be checking you for fever?"

She laughed and lifted her hand like she was going to punch his arm again, but she feinted and got him in the stomach, "Ha, see? I'm a natural."

"Ouch, stop. I take it back. You're very mature," he rubbed the spot she had hit but he was smiling.

"Thank you. Now get out of here. I'm looking forward to dinner tonight."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes really, so go. Get on that."

"Fine. I'll see you later," he stopped himself from telling her to stay in the ship, since they'd just finished that fight.

"Go!" She flapped her hand at him and turned to test the temperature of the seaweed tea.

He watched her for a moment before he went down the ladder He knew that easing up on her was going to be a challenge for him, after 17 years, but that he had to try. Because what was the point of everything he'd done to protect her, of his mother being floated, of shooting Chancellor Jaha, if he couldn't try to let her be happy?


	4. This Is Not Enough

**Authors Notes**: You guys, this chapter fought me every step of the way. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I needed to let it be if I'm going to finish this thing. It got long, and that's even after I cut out a planned section. Please let me know what you think, if you're so inclined. Thanks so much to those that have taken the time so far! Reviews are awesome. Title comes from this quote, "I'm not interested in blind optimism, but I'm very interested in optimism that is hard-won, that takes on darkness and then says, 'This is not enough.' – Colum McCann. Oh, and I shamelessly steal from Game of Thrones in this chapter. It was too perfect and I could not resist!

**This Is Not Enough**

Clarke listened to the sound of Bellamy's boots on the treads of the ladder. She waited until they faded, and then a few minutes more. She stretched out her arms, and began to move around in her makeshift bed, making a show of waking up. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on the conversation the siblings had been having, and she absolutely did not want Bellamy to know that she had done so. He was wary of revealing vulnerabilities to anyone, but especially, it seemed, to her.

Octavia started humming softly and Clarke figured that now was a good a time as any to face her. She twisted her body out of the hammock and landed lightly on bare feet. When she looked up, Octavia was watching her knowingly, "Morning," Clarke ventured.

"Good morning."

Clarke took a few steps forward, Finn was still laid out on the table. His color looked a little better, which was good, but seeing him so still and quiet was unnerving, "How's Finn?"

"No change. But you knew that already, since you heard Raven ask me the same question."

Clarke froze, "Damn. Busted?"

"Busted. You're a fidgety sleeper. I knew you were awake when you were finally still."

"I'm really sorry, Octavia. I honestly didn't mean to. It took me awhile to be fully alert and then by the time I was... I don't know. I sort of figured it would be less awkward to pretend I never heard anything than to interrupt. It's none of my business and I'll keep it to myself. Again, I'm sorry."

Octavia shrugged, "I'm not mad. It's not like I'm used to privacy. And I won't tell Bellamy."

Clarke winced, "He would definitely be mad."

"Definitely. He just doesn't want you to think he's weak."

"Weak is not an adjective I'd use to describe your brother."

"He's not. As you heard this morning my mother put a lot on him. He never complained. My mom delivered me on the floor in our berth with only Bellamy there. He named me, actually."

Clarke smiled, "Octavia's a pretty sophisticated pick for a little kid."

"Sister of Augustus Ceasar, the first emperor of Rome."

Clarke shook her head, bemused. "That actually explains a lot about your brother."

This time they laughed together, "I actually think that you and him have more in common than you'd admit, Clarke."

"Me? And Bellamy? Really?"

"I hate to break it to you Clarke, but you're kind of a stubborn jackass, too."

Clarke felt her jaw drop, "Octavia!"

"Oh relax, Princess, it's not necessarily a bad thing. You both take on a lot. You both suck at asking for help because you hate to admit that you're not in control. You hold grudges. You think your way is the best way. Stop me if I say something that's not true."

Clarke knew that nothing Octavia was saying was incorrect. Still, having her worst traits enumerated wasn't her favorite way to start the day.

"Oh, don't pout. I'll stop, for now," she nudged Clarke gently with her hip. "Anyway, it's probably a good thing that you heard all that. Bellamy's not as bad as you think he is, and maybe you'll remember that next time you two go at it. Besides, what's a dramatic family confrontation between friends?"

"Two dramatic family confrontations between friends. Or are you forgetting last night on the comms with my mother? With a bonus accusation of mental instability?"

"I'm probably not the right person to ask. I'm new to this whole friends thing. Although I've been told that I'm surprisingly mentally stable, given I only knew two people for most of my life."

Clarke felt a laugh bubble out of her as she sat down to put on her socks and boots, "I am not mentally unstable, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't. I heard enough from my mom and Bellamy to know that Councilman Kane is kind of a dick."

Clarke laughed harder, "He really is, O."

"Do..." Octavia hesitated. "Do you want to talk about it? That's a friend thing to do, right?"

"About my mom? Or my supposed mental instability?"

"Both? Either? Your call."

Clarke decided to tackle the easier question for now, "I was put into solitary the day after I watched my father get floated. I couldn't sleep for awhile and then I slept too much. Eventually I stopped eating enough. I think that they thought I was trying to kill myself. But I wasn't. I just stopped feeling hungry. I stopped feeling much of anything. As for my mother..." Clarke paused, not sure how to articulate what she wanted to say, and focused on finishing the laces of her boots. "I feel too many things. Maybe it hasn't fully sunk in yet. I'm so angry at her, but I miss her, too."

"I met your mom, you know. They took me to medical before they took me to prison. That day's kind of blurry for me, but she was nice to me. You're mom, I mean." Clarke didn't know how to reply to that. She stood up and brushed herself off. Luckily, Octavia was willing to take the hint and change the subject, "So, this friends thing. We're doing it?"

"Seems like it," Clarke replied, "Unless you've changed your mind."

"Nope. You're not getting rid of me that easily. There are some things that I've always wanted to do, and I'm afraid that you're now obligated to do with me."

"Like what?" Clarke asked suspiciously.

"Nope. Not going to tell you now, you'll just have to live in suspense."

"I don't like suspense."

"Too bad."

"Fine. Keep in mind that my best friend was a boy so my experiences were more of the 'playing catch' variety and less of the having 'slumber parties and talking about boys' kind."

"Oh, then I'll just have to put slumber party on the list. Because I definitely want to talk about boys."

"I look forward to seeing how you pull off the first Earth slumber party then. I'm going to go get some breakfast and see what's going on outside. I'll be back soon."

"Take your time. The tea's cold enough now. I can give it to Finn. Fresh air and sunshine are supposed to be good for you, right?"

"I guess we'll get to find out," Clarke shrugged into her tattered jacket and approached the hatch, "Yell if you need me," Clarke reminded Octavia, and descended the ladder.

* * *

The lower level was deserted, as Clarke had assumed it would be. They'd been crammed into the ship, for close to 10 hours, while the storm raged and she was sure that everyone was more than happy to be outside again. It was a particularly beautiful day, Clarke noted, as she walked down the ramp. Blue skies, no clouds. Like a dream. The heavy humidity had even abated.

As she glanced around she noted that most everyone seemed to be busy. Repairs were being made along the interior of the fence, debris was being collected. There were fires going and water boiling. Unfortunately, the area that they'd been using for meal prep and distribution was deserted. She'd have to go find her own breakfast. First, she walked further out and did a quick scan for her friends. She heard Raven's voice, the tone of it was distinct, and she followed the sound, around the side of the drop ship. Monty was there too. They had their tools out and were bent over something on the ground so Clarke just gave them a quick wave when they looked up, and kept walking.

She found Jasper next, speaking with two boys that Clarke didn't know. He had a piece of metal cradled in one arm and was scribbling on it with the chalk rocks they'd taken to using. One of the youngest kids had found them on the third day and they'd gathered up a ton of them. They'd used them, along with some leaves and berries to draw a crude map on the side of the drop ship. After what had happened to Trina and Pascale it was smart for everyone to have at least a basic understanding of their location and the surrounding terrain.

Jasper turned away from the boys, just as she reached him. "Clarke," he said and smiled at her. "You're looking less like the undead this fine morning."

"Gee thanks. Just what a girl wants to hear."

"No! I didn't mean..." He floundered, "You're still pretty? Even when you look like you eat brains?"

Clarke rolled her ways, but couldn't help but laugh at him, "Better. What are you doing?"

"Oh!" He tilted the metal so she could read it. His writing was barely legible but she recognized names and numbers. "Bellamy found me this morning and asked me to do a census. I'm like 20 people in and I'm going to have to find another piece of metal soon. What I wouldn't give for a tablet."

"A census? Really?"

"Well, he didn't use that word. And he didn't really ask, just said 'Jasper, I want a list of everyone's names and what they can do, and I want it by nightfall,' and then he stomped off. But hey, he called me by my actual name so I'm hopeful he no longer wants to kill me in my sleep."

"Ha! That makes one of us."

Jasper poked her shoulder, "I think you're wrong. After last night I bet he at least respects you enough to kill you to your face. Wait. That made way more sense in my head."

"I think a lot of things make more sense in your head, Jasper."

"I'm hurt, Clarke. I thought you'd come to appreciate my witticisms."

"Maybe someday. But," she dug around in her pocket, "I have something that might help you out," she produced the pencil Finn had given her, "ta-da! And maybe you could use the back of the maps and copy out what you have? It would probably be easier if everything was in one place."

Jasper took the pencil from her, "Where'd this come from?"

Clarke wavered for a second but decided that Jasper was one of the people that she trusted, "Finn found some kind of underground bunker. The food's all long expired but we found a couple of useful things, like that pencil, and the parts that Raven scavenged to get us in touch with the Ark. It's where we took Charlotte and we've been keeping it quiet, just in case we needed it again. I'll take you and Monty and Octavia out there. If you want, I mean." Clarke wasn't entirely sure if leaving the camp to go after Octavia yesterday had made Jasper's fears of what was outside the walls better, or worse. "Anyway. I need to find myself something to eat, so I'll leave you to your census."

"Wait, wait a minute, aren't you forgetting something?"

Jasper was looking at her expectantly and she had no idea what he wanted, "I don't think so?"

Jasper shoved the pencil into his own pocket and poised the chalk rock over the sheet of metal, "Name?"

"Oh, please. You know my name."

"Clarke, I am trying to do my job here. You know, be a productive member of camp? Help a guy out. So, name?"

Clarke sighed, but played along, "Clarke Griffin."

"Age?"

"I'll be eighteen in," she paused to think, "two weeks and five days."

"Occupational track?"

"Medical."

"Any other special skills?"

"Drawing? Not that that's going to be particularly useful. And orienteering, I guess. It was kind of a hobby of my father's."

"That's like, maps and stuff right? Navigation? Like when we went to Mount Weather?"

"Basically."

He noted it all down, "Thanks, Clarke," he said taking a couple steps away.

"No problem."

He waved goodbye and Clarke headed for the gate, stopping briefly to fill her water bag. She turned, as she sensed someone coming up behind her, and saw that it was Monroe. The other girl was several inches taller than she, and definitely more muscular. She'd also been consistently, and vocally, derisive of Clarke, so it was with a certain amount of trepidation that Clarke watched her approach. She put the water down , and one of her hands touched the knife that was threaded through her belt, just in case. Monroe's hands were full though, so Clarke forced herself to relax.

Monroe stopped in front of Clarke and thrust the items she held in her hands, "Here. For you. You missed breakfast, so it's kind of cold."

Clarke accepted them automatically and looked down at her hands which now held one of the carved wooden bowls filled with the stewed roots and greens (it looked pretty gross, but actually tasted better than the lumpy porridge that was the typical breakfast on the Ark) that made up the bulk of their non-meat meals and a handful of berries. "Oh," Clarke glanced at Monroe who had fixed her with a hard, assessing stare, "thanks. That was really nice of you."

Monroe's expression turned sardonic, "It wasn't anything of me. I'm just following orders." She turned away with one last narrow eyed glare and was stomping away before Clarke could ask her what the hell that was supposed to mean.

Clarke glanced at the big blue sky once more, then at the dozens of people milling around. She eyed the gate again. She'd actually kind of been looking forward to getting out, into the forest. A little time by herself, a little space to breathe, to think. She chewed on her lip, indecisive, and ate a couple of berries out of her hand. Octavia had told her to take her time, and Finn had showed little change, for hours and hours now. And then there was the threat of the Grounders, but then they had no evidence that they'd been close to camp. Surely a little walk around outside couldn't hurt anything? She'd eat as she went.

Clarke knew that it probably wasn't the most responsible choice but she darted towards the gate anyway, and slipped out. There was more evidence of the storm out here, than there had been within the walls. Some of the smaller trees had been ripped clear out of the ground, and there were felled branches everywhere. The ground was muddy and there were two different paths of trampled grass. The first led out and into the forest and the second bent to the right, hugging the wall. Clarke considered, and then went left. She was trying to avoid people, after all. So she'd take a loop around the wall. If she stuck close she'd hear them yelling if something happened and they needed her.

She ate the rest of the berries as she walked. She felt calmer, out here. Surrounded by leaves and trees, breathing unfiltered air, without the weight of dozens of eyes on her, Clarke felt capable, in a more genuine way. Around the others she forced herself to project an air of confidence that she didn't necessarily always feel. She knew that the vast majority of them would never like her but she would make them respect her.

She wasn't an idiot. Most of them had been born in sector 17, where personnel who were considered nonessential, dwelled. When they'd all been younger it had mattered less. As they grew up, Clarke's clothes (tattered and much repaired, of course, but less so than most others) and the little luxuries (pencils, the occasional piece of candy, the earrings her parents had given her on her twelfth birthday) bought with the extra credits her parents received due to the nature of their jobs, were noted and held against her. The division became more pronounced when, at 13, the aptitude tests were administered, and the general course of their studies became more focused on whatever their future careers would be.

And so, while exceptional test scores were possible, a very few people transitioned from non-essential to privileged. People seemed to live and die in the sections they were born in and friendships that crossed those boundaries simply did not happen. Clarke had had Wells, who she was around most. She had occasionally spent time with the daughter of another council member, and the daughter of the woman who headed the team that monitored space for threats (solar flares, or meteors, or any number of other things) that could harm the Ark. Those two girls had been closer to each other than they had been to Clarke, and she somehow doubted that they would have stood by her, even if she'd been pardoned at 18.

It had bothered her, a little, the fact that most of her peers resented her, but less so as she got older. She comforted herself with the knowledge that most of the things that they thought about her simply weren't true. And besides, it was impossible for her to change who her parents were, and she wouldn't have wanted to anyway. Her father had always been critical of those among the privileged who considered themselves better, as though they were intrinsically more valuable because of the jobs they performed. He'd been a fair man, and he'd seen the Ark like a machine, where all the pieces, no matter their size, needed to work together in order to function. Her mother was a healer, at her heart, and believed in helping everyone, to the best of her ability, regardless of their status. As Dr. Griffin, she spent most of her time among those considered non-essential, probably more than anyone else among the privileged. She knew them as people, as individuals who loved their children and worked hard.

And so, Clarke did her best to reject elitist attitudes and go about her own business. She didn't always succeed, she struggled occasionally, with being the bigger person. When taunted she sometimes couldn't help herself from taunting back. She also considered herself to be observant, so she could usually suss out a person's weakest points, and knew just what to say for maximum damage. When attacked, she went for the jugular, and it was usually Wells who pulled her back and away. Who looked at her, in that measured way he had, that he'd learned from his father, until she'd felt guilty enough to want to apologize.

She never actually did apologize, though. It wouldn't have done any good, and those that hated her would have just hated her more. Would have taken her contrition as faked, more evidence of their belief in Clarke's high and mighty opinion of herself. So, she thought wryly, she probably deserved at least some of the scorn she was getting now. There was nothing much she could do about it. Maybe in time the fresh start they'd been given on earth would soothe any of the old hurts from the Ark. Clarke had meant what she'd said to Chancellor Jaha, her mother and Councilman Kane last night. They were going to live down here, going to build something, something new and hopefully free of the flaws of the system of the Ark. Clarke's father had taught her to believe in equality and her mother had taught her that all humans had value and she was going to try her damnedest to inject those two things into what they were building down here.

It would, she knew, not be easy. And yet now, as she looked around the forest, heard the sounds that floated over the wall, the sounds of all of those people working together, she couldn't help but feel optimistic that they could do it.

As she'd said that first day, she didn't care about who was in charge, didn't need it to be her. It looked like it was going to be Bellamy and Clarke wasn't as opposed to that as she had been in the beginning. She'd observed enough about him to believe that he wasn't, fundamentally, a bad person. Not like Murphy had been, for example.

Some part of Murphy had liked to see others hurt, reveled in the power it gave him when people feared him. She'd felt sick to her stomach when the mob had strung him up in that tree, it was awful, and it had been her fault. But the viciousness of it, that had been Murphy's own fault. The mob didn't care about Wells, he'd been the Chancellor's son and therefore a surrogate for all the anger and hate they'd felt for his father. No one (except Clarke and maybe Finn, a little) had cared much that Well's the individual had died, they'd only cared that it revealed that they were vulnerable to attack, that anyone else could be next.

Murphy had spent days threatening and degrading everyone in his path, lording his newfound power over them, so when given the opportunity they'd turned on them. When Charlotte confessed the mob didn't turn on her, because the mob didn't want to destroy her. She was just a kid, after all. The few who'd joined Murphy on the hunt for Charlotte were people she'd be keeping an eye on because they were the most like him, and therefore, Clarke thought, the most dangerous.

So no, Bellamy wasn't like Murphy. At first she'd written off his actions, those first few days, as entirely egocentric. She'd assumed he'd been like the figures she's read about in history, the tyrants who'd taken land and resources, money and power and hoarded it at the expense of everybody else. She now knew that it hadn't been about him, not really, it was about Octavia and the responsibility he shouldered for her safety and wellbeing. She didn't know anything about siblings, how could she? The Blake's were the only set she knew, the only set in nearly a century. But she knew that Bellamy would do anything for his sister and, after talking to Octavia this morning, she knew that Octavia would do the same for Bellamy. And she thought that it was beautiful, in a way, and that more people should (and would, if she had anything to say about it) have that in their lives.

He also wasn't stupid, she'd come to realize, far from it. He'd given the people, his people, exactly what they wanted. After a lifetime of rules and schedules, of fearing dire consequences for any infraction, however minor, he'd said something so simple, 'Whatever the hell we want,' and with so much charisma that he'd had them, instantly. Their trust and their loyalty. Clarke's attempts to organize, to order the chaos, had never stood a chance, she could admit now. The 100 wouldn't have listened to her even if her reputation as a perfect, golden princess had not preceded her. And Bellamy was also smart enough that he now realized that the system, or really the lack of a system, would not sustain them. Trina and Pascale were dead, because they'd wandered off. Without food, clean water and shelter (because winter was going to come) more would die.

She saw that Bellamy had come to take his responsibility to the people that followed him seriously, even if he may deny it. He would fight for them. She'd seen it when he'd tried to save Charlotte, when he'd sat with Atom, a knife shaking in his grip, in the way he'd help carry Finn back to camp. Bellamy Blake wasn't the worst leader they could have, far from it. Clarke could admit that to herself now, even if she couldn't fathom saying it out loud.

She finished up the berries in her hand and absently wiped what remained of the juice on her pants, as she came around a corner (to use the term loosely, since it wasn't exactly a right angle). She stopped abruptly and let out a surprised squeak that was really, really embarrassing at seeing Bellamy not two feet in front of her.

He was equally surprised, and dropped the tool he'd been using to shore up the wall with, and swore as it narrowly missed his foot.

"Speak of the devil," she said before she could think of anything better. She cringed internally as it was both foolish and somewhat nonsensical, not to mention sure to be taken the wrong way.

"Uh, pretty sure talking to yourself is a bad sign there, Princess."

"Think of the devil then," she wanted to slap herself, because somehow that was even worse.

"Do you think of me often?" he asked, and she would have categorized the look on his face as flirtatious, if not for the fact that she was, quite literally, the last woman on earth that Bellamy Blake would be flirting with.

"More often than I would like," she admitted. She raised the bowl that was still in her hand a little hoping to distract him from her continued accidental honesty, "Thanks for breakfast, by the way."

He made a noise and turned back to the wall, "Don't thank me. O asked me to do it. You've grown on her, somehow."

She couldn't help the dubious face she made, but luckily his focus was not on her. She knew for a fact that he was lying, that Octavia had asked him nothing of the sort, but she couldn't let him know that without outing herself as an eavesdropper.

"Still, thank you. I also talked to Jasper this morning."

He let out an exasperated noise and turned back to her, "If you're waiting for me to admit that you're right about some things than fine, I'll admit it. Are you happy now?"

Clarke kind of wanted to throw the bowl at his head but she wouldn't, both because wasting food was idiotic when you didn't know for sure where your next meal was coming from, and because it would halt the tiny bit of progress that she'd made with Bellamy in the last two days. So instead, she made herself take a deep breath, and continue the conversation civilly. "It's not about what makes me happy, Bellamy. And I would appreciate it, if you could at least attempt to give me the benefit of the doubt here. I've been working as hard as anyone at camp."

He made a noise that she took as agreement, and his face read like he was humouring her, but no words were forthcoming. Clarke pushed down her rising irritation and tried a different track, "I talked to your sister this morning."

That, at least, peaked his interest, "And?"

"And, she's surprisingly smart about people. She told me that I am also a stubborn jackass," and here she paused, and allowed him to laugh at her, "and that you, Bellamy Blake, are a better person than I've given you credit for."

"And you think that she's wrong, I'm betting."

"No, actually. I know that she's right." He gaped at her, just a little, which was somewhat satisfying. She rolled her eyes, "Look, Bellamy, I'm actually fairly aware of my faults as a person. I'm not perfect, because that's frankly impossible. I'll admit that I haven't always been fair to you, that I've assumed things about you and treated you a certain way because of them."

"So what? You're sorry?" He said skeptically.

Clarke considered, "You know what? I'm not really sorry. Because I'm still not okay with some of the things that you've done," she saw his jaw clench and interrupted whatever he was going to say next, "That's another one of my flaws, I guess. But, I'm going to try to move beyond all that, to judge you by what you do now, rather than what you did in the past, because for the most part I get why you've acted the way you have. I don't like it, but I get it."

"Are you calling a truce, Princess?" She levelled him with a hard glare, "I mean, are you calling a truce, Clarke?"

"You need trust to have a truce."

He studied her, "I do trust you."

"Then I guess we have a truce."

He nodded at her and she went to step past him, unwilling to put their ability to be civil to the test quite so soon.

She heard him curse again, behind her, before he spoke again, "Hey, Clarke?"

She turned again and gave him her attention, and he continued, "Tonight, when I get that list from Jasper, do you want to..." Bellamy trailed off and Clarke could see that this was killing him, just a little bit. "I just... I have some ideas. And I know that you have plenty of opinions so..."

She kept her expression carefully neutral as she agreed, "Come find me whenever it's done. We'll talk." She waited for his agreement. He nodded, and it might have been reluctant but if showed Clarke that she wasn't the only one willing to try.

Perhaps, she thought as she began to walk away, her earlier optimism, her conviction that what they were doing down here would succeed, had not been misplaced.


	5. Between Vice and Virtue

Authors Notes: I said I wasn't going to be spoiled but I totally spent a good chunk of time on twitter/tumblr this evening, instead of editing this, so it might be a little rough. Can't wait to see the episode!

**Between Virtue and Vice**

Bellamy watches Clarke until she rounds the next corner, and she in no longer in his field of vision, almost without meaning to. She never quite manages to do or say what he expects of her, and as time goes on, he's finding it less annoying. He's not quite to the point of liking her, though he can admit to not being too far off. She's still a little too naive, a little too self-righteous, a little too pushy. But it seems like she knows that about herself at least.

The thing is that Bellamy's used to women who either try too hard or don't try at all.

Those that try too hard bothered him the most. They're usually nice enough girls, but they only say what they think Bellamy wants them to and he'll admit that they're kind of boring. There'd been a handful on the Ark, girls he'd grown up with, that had smiled at him and flirted. They'd wanted him to be the boyfriend type, something that he just wasn't. It was hard to let people close when you've got a giant secret living under the floor in your quarters, so all of Bellamy's friendships remained casual. He'd never had the kind of girlfriend that he introduced to his mom or celebrated silly anniversaries with.

That led to the second type of woman, the kind who didn't try at all. The kind that didn't want anything more than the physical, that liked the way he looked, or maybe knew him by reputation. They didn't bother to be coy and he got what he wanted from them, and made sure they got something in return. He'd stuck to these women since coming down to earth, ignoring any soft eyes, or breathy giggles directed his way. He wasn't interested in being anyone's boyfriend or protector, he had enough on his plate.

Clarke belonged in an entirely different category. She wasn't interested in sparing his feelings or his ego. She wasn't about to jump in his bed, either. He could admit, silently and to himself, at least, that she was an asset to the group. What she'd done with Finn last night... No one else down here could have done it. Hell, he would have bet that only a handful of people on the Ark could have done that. After she'd pulled the knife out, there'd been so much blood, Bellamy had thought that Finn was a goner, that Clarke would try, because she didn't have it in her not to, but that she would fail. He'd been idly planning for the fallout both emotional (Clarke would blame herself, Raven would, he thought, express her grief with rage, Octavia would be sad, both for herself and for the others) and practical (finding someone, or more likely a few someone's, who had Finn's skill sets). But Clarke had seemed un-phased by the blood. She'd handed the Grounder's knife off to Octavia and picked up a scalpel, and dived right in. She'd been so focused she hadn't even noticed Finn coming to. Bellamy had because, while he didn't think he was squeamish, he also didn't want to watch Clarke's hands handling Finn's organs.

It was only then that she'd faltered, because she was causing Finn pain, even though she was trying to help him. To her credit she'd snapped out of it quickly, and completed the procedure. And despite Bellamy's doubts, Finn had pulled through, because of Clarke. And Bellamy knew that whatever Finn was to her personally, Clarke would have worked just as hard for someone else. The group needed her and therefore Bellamy was going to do as Raven had suggested, and as Octavia had demanded, and try to separate his assumptions about her as one of the privileged, from who she was proving herself to be. He knew that the way that he treated her rubbed off on everyone else, and that if he stopped with the glares and the taunts eventually, everyone else would stop too. And Clarke deserved that at least, for the way that she'd stood up for them last night. He'd told Monroe about it, and he had no doubt that it would spread throughout the camp within a day or two. Monroe was actually part of one of his plans, so he needed her to warm up to Clarke, at least a little.

Bellamy actually wasn't sure why he denied being the one responsible for making sure she ate that morning. The lie had slipped out, a knee jerk reaction to prevent her from thinking he cared about her. A reaction that didn't make a lot of sense, especially since he'd made that pretty obvious last night, when he'd insisted she go to sleep. And why shouldn't he care for her wellbeing? He was their leader, with a sister who had proven to be worryingly prone to injury, and she was their healer. It was perfectly understandable.

Bellamy sighed, frustrated. Self-reflection, as he was ironically well aware, was not his strong suit. He acted, and then he assessed the fallout. He wasn't one for regrets, as he knew better than most that you couldn't change the past, that you could only move forward. Earth, and Clarke Griffin, it seemed, were conspiring against him and Bellamy wasn't so sure that he'd be better off for it. Clarke tended to needle him, bring up his mistakes. She didn't seem to understand that he couldn't dwell on them, that he had to be able to make choices without second guessing himself.

He tipped his head towards the sky and noted that it had become afternoon while he was gathering his thoughts. He'd made steady progress around the wall as well, with roughly half of the outside repaired. He noted the location, grabbed his tools, and made for the entrance to camp. He'd been hesitant to send another out to handle the repairs that morning, as fear had ramped up dramatically after yesterday's events, so in the end he'd decided to handle it himself. He didn't blame them for being afraid. Seven people had left, one had returned badly wounded and three hadn't returned at all. He wouldn't be able to finish, it was getting late, and he needed to check the snares if they wanted meat for dinner. So, upon entering the gate he waved over three of the older delinquents, handed over the tools and told them where he'd left off. They seemed nervous, but didn't argue with him.

The hustle of this morning had mostly died away now that most of the obvious damage from the storm was cleared away, and the wall was nearly repaired. He saw people spread out on the ground in pairs and clumps, and he assumed there were more either sleeping or screwing in the tents that had been put up again. A few girls were using berries and sticks to give each other makeovers, for god's sake. He hoped they at least had the sense not to use anything poisonous. A quick count told him that there were 92 people in this camp and only 15 or so were accomplishing anything productive.

There were two teams still working on the far side to shore up the wall where it had sagged from the force of the wind, and he saw that water had been brought in, and some of it was being boiled. He checked the food stores and saw that they had enough until tomorrow morning, but they really could use some more. He wasn't entirely confident in his ability to reset the snares, so meat might be lean for a few days until either Finn recovered, or Bellamy figured them out. He saw Octavia over by one of the secondary fires, pouring water into a piece of bent metal. He resisted the urge to start assigning tasks. He was well aware that he'd brought this on himself, and he couldn't change it in one day. He really wished he'd been aware, at the time, how much extra work 'whatever the hell we want' would lead to for him personally.

He made his way over to Octavia, but reminded himself to be casual, and not seem like he was checking up on her, even though he was (another thing that he couldn't change in one day). As he got closer he saw that she had sticks twisted up into her hair to keep it off of her face, and away from the cut that was covered in another layer of tree sap. He flicked her ear gently as he came up behind her, "Been participating in the makeovers, O? You know 'like a bird's nest' is supposed to be just an expression, right?"

She gave him a withering look, "My hair is disgusting, Bell. I would kill for a bar of soap. And, since I highly doubt you'd be cool with me making a trip to the bathing pond, I'm making due. And attempting to do laundry," she gestured to the small pile next to her, "Would it have killed the Ark to send us down with a change of clothes? At least most of us were wearing layers. You have anything you want to throw in? I'm not doing it for any of these lazy losers," she gestured to the camp at large, "but I've got Clarke's shirt here, and Finn's stuff."

"Naw. I was planning to jump in the stream on my way to check the snares."

Octavia made a displeased noise, but thankfully didn't demand to come with him, "More rabbits, less squirrels, please."

"It doesn't really work like that, O"

"A girl can dream, can't she? Finn woke up, by the way."

"What? When?"

"Just a few minutes ago. He's coherent, so Clarke called for Raven."

"Bet that's awkward," Bellamy said absently.

"Yep."

Bellamy surveyed Octavia, "So you know?"

"That Finn's been chasing Clarke since we got here? Of course I know, I've been here and I have eyes. Why," she tilted her head and studied him, "do you know something that I don't know?"

He did, but he wasn't the gossiping type, so he deflected, "What would I know? They're your friends, not mine."

She continued to eye him, and he could tell by the set of her mouth that she didn't believe him, "You do know something! Did Finn and Clarke..."

He avoided her gaze, but Octavia knew him too well. Her eyes widened, "Oh. Well that puts a damper on my slumber party plans. And I'm clearly the only person on earth not having sex."

"Octavia!"

"Oops. Sorry Bell."

"Just... don't say things like that to me. Better yet, don't think things like that at all."

She rolled her eyes, "You're such a hypocrite. I hear the girls talking, okay? This camp is not that big."

"I'm six years older than you."

She gave him a flat look, "I lived under the floor, Bellamy. Do you think I didn't hear you sneaking out after mom fell asleep? I believe that I was about 10, when that started."

Bellamy felt his ears get hot. Nope. He was not having this conversation with his little sister, "I've got to get to those snares."

She shook her head ruefully, amused. "You do that. Be careful!"

"You too," he replied and that earned him a dirty look. She wasn't as annoyed as she would have been a few days ago, at least. He was under no illusion that Octavia's new amiability would last. He'd bet by the time Finn was up and about she'd be back to pushing boundaries and by extension, his patience. So he'd enjoy it while he could. And also maybe remind a few of the guys about what had happened to Atom when he'd messed with Octavia. Quietly, of course.

* * *

Sadly, the snares had yielded mostly squirrels, once again. He hoped that he'd done a decent job of resetting the snares, but only time would tell. It might require some trial and error to get right. When Bellamy got back to camp he managed to wrangle a few people to skin and cook them. When food was involved people were typically pretty willing to pitch in, of course. With dinner taken care of he took a quick walk around the interior of the fence to check the work that had been done, and then he tracked down the guys he'd sent to do the work on the outside. They reported that it had been done, and that there had been no Grounder sightings. Not that that meant much to Bellamy. They hadn't seen Grounders yesterday until after John had ended up with his throat slit. Bellamy shook his head to clear it. If the Grounders were going to come after them at camp, they would have done so already.

A loud burst of laughter from somewhere behind him startled him further out of his bleak thoughts. It was a laugh he recognized, though he was used to hearing it muffled. Octavia was pretty much where he'd left her, but both Clarke and Raven had joined her, and all three were laying out clothes on a pile of branches they'd constructed to arch over the fire. Raven was gesturing wildly as she talked, and Clarke had a small smile on her face.

He felt a hand on his forearm, and looked down to see Lily, one of the girls who'd shared his tent a time or two. "Hey," she greeted, "should I stop by your tent later?"

He thought about it, about the incredibly long, harrowing day he'd had yesterday, and all of the things he still had to do today. If he was really honest with himself, all he really wanted to do was sleep, and he'd do that better alone. "Not tonight."

She dropped his arm, "Your loss," she shrugged and walked away. She didn't seem upset, though, so he figured she'd try again in a few days.

Now, he needed to find Jasper. He wanted to look over the list he'd made, before meeting up with Clarke. He headed to Octavia, since that kid had been her shadow since day one. All three girls looked up at him as he approached and he felt a quick moment of dread, because the three of them individually were hard for him to handle, as a group, it was entirely possible that he was doomed.

"Ladies," he greeted. And yup, that was three eye rolls directed at him. "O, where's your sidekick?"

"If you're talking about Jasper, he's upstairs with Finn."

Bellamy was surprised, "Finn's doing well then?"

"Yeah," Clarke answered, "He slept for another hour or so before he woke up again. Then they kicked us out."

"Jasper dragged Monty up there, babbling something about manly conversations and comparing war wounds," Octavia told him.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they put up a 'No Girls Allowed' sign," Clarke added.

"Uh, they better not have. All my shit's up there, and hello, who's the one who has been saving lives on that deck? That would be you, Clarke Griffin. And you're definitely a girl," Raven said, and leered playfully down Clarke's shirt. Octavia laughed loudly again.

Clarke slapped at Raven with a still wet tank top but did not reply. Raven dodged, giggling, "I'm just saying. Those ingrates better think twice before messing with us."

He left the three of them, still laughing while hanging laundry. Bellamy was somewhat mystified that Clarke and Raven were getting along so well. It was like they were determined to be friends, despite the fact that Clarke had been with Raven's boyfriend, and within a few days, even. But then again, from what he knew, most of the blame lay with Finn. He winced a little internally because in that case he felt a little sorry for Finn. Once he was up, and back to full strength... Well, he bet Raven would have a thing or two to say to him. Octavia seemed to have taken to the two older girls and while he assumed they'd nurture Octavia's miles wide headstrong streak, which would probably continue to, drive him crazy, he couldn't bring himself to be mad about it. Octavia was happy, and so he would be happy for her.

He was just going to yell up for Jasper, but the hatch was closed, because nothing could be easy for him today. So he climbed the ladder, and then pushed the door open. Finn was propped up a little, looking significantly more alive than the last time Bellamy had seen him, and Jasper and Monty sat together with their backs to the hatch, bent over some papers, and a hunk of metal sheeting. They all looked at him as he climbed into the room. Monty and Jasper were still a little nervous around him, but Finn never really had been, so it was Finn who spoke first, "Hey man. I'm told I have to say thanks to you too. From the way Jasper told it, it took a lot of people to save my life."

Bellamy blinked at him, not sure what to say. Finn had almost died to get Octavia back and the guy was thanking him? "Well, turns out I wasn't paying enough attention when you were laying the snares, and I like to eat, so I didn't have much choice," he gestured to the band of bruising around Finn's upper chest that Bellamy knew would be the same shape as his arm, "and that probably hurts, so we'll call it even."

Finn started to laugh, but quickly stopped himself, "Ouch. It does hurt. Everything hurts. Beats being dead."

Bellamy couldn't really argue with that, "How long do you need to stay up here?"

Finn shrugged, "A day or two? Clarke's worried about the ladder. From the sounds of it I'm going to be pretty useless for a couple of weeks."

"Beats being dead."

"I know. I say that now, but I know I'm going to want to eat those words within the week."

Bellamy didn't doubt it. Finn had constantly been on the go before, he'd probably spent more time outside the walls than in them. Bellamy paused to consider that thought again. "Are you up for a meeting tonight?"

Finn gave him a curious look, "I guess so, I don't know how many people you're going to get up here though, and Raven threatened to... Well let's just say it was unpleasant, if I leave before Clarke clears me."

Bellamy considered Finn. From the way he was talking he was totally in the dark, he had no idea that Raven knew about Clarke. He thought about enlightening the guy, some kind of code? Before deciding that no, it really was none of his business, and he really didn't want to insert himself into it anymore than he already had. "Only needs enough space for four people. You. Me. Clarke, and Monty here."

Monty looked up from the paper he was writing on, "Me?"

"Yeah you. You're the plant guy, right?"

That's... not the most flattering of monikers, but sure. Whatever. I'll be the plant guy."

"Assuming Jasper completed the list I asked for?"

"I got it. Octavia and Clarke made fun of my writing, so Monty's copying it down so you can actually read it. He has tiny, perfect girl penmanship."

"I know you meant that as an insult, but girl's have better handwriting because their motor skills develop earlier, so essentially, you're saying that I'm more advanced than you are." To Bellamy he said, "I'll be done in a minute. Oh and," he leaned over to the side and grabbed a small sheaf of papers, "Clarke told me to see if you wanted this. It was with the maps."

"What is it?"

"The meagre intel that the Ark saw fit to supply us with before they dropped us here," he tossed it to Bellamy.

He caught it, and flipped to the first page. Climate, major cities, indigenous species, etc. "I doubt it's entirely accurate, but it can't hurt."

"So what," Finn asked him, "you decided that Clarke was right, and you're starting your own council now?"

Bellamy was irritated by the insinuation, "I decided that losing 10% of the group in 10 days is a bad thing. I decided that I want us to survive the next couple of months, and then the next couple of years and in order for that to happen, things have to be done differently."

"You can just say that she had a point, you know. It won't kill you. I was joking when I started calling her Princess, but the truth is she knows way more about the political bullshit than the rest of us."

"You're awfully defensive about a girl who's not yours, Spacewalker. Are you in, or are you out?"

Finn waved a hand, suddenly laid back. He still had that look in his eyes though, like he was trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle, "Sure, I'm in."

"Aaand, I am done," Monty said, oblivious to the rise in tension. He rolled up the piece of paper, went to hand it to Bellamy, but pulled back at the last second. Bellamy's eyes narrowed and Monty looked apprehensive, "Clarke will kill us both if you lose or damage those maps."

Bellamy glared harder and Monty released his grasp on the tube of papers, "Alright, alright. I'm just saying. She can be scary, okay?"

"We'll meet at dinner," Bellamy told them, by way of farewell, "One of you tell Clarke."

* * *

Bellamy went back to his tent, and read through the book Monty had given him. Then, he looked over the information Jasper had compiled. When the dinner call came, he went to grab a helping, and was heading to the drop ship. He saw a streak of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye, heading in the wrong direction. Of course, she couldn't make things easy. If she didn't hurry her ass up he was locking the hatch on her, and she'd just have to whine to someone else about her ideas continuing to be disregarded.

When he got to the ladder he paused for a moment to juggle his bowl and the papers, before climbing up one handed. Finn was there, of course, as was Monty who had probably been early. Raven was also there, having apparently dropped off a plate for Finn. When she saw Bellamy she said, "Yeah, yeah, I'm going. Wouldn't want to crash your super cool meeting. Clarke's going to be late..."

"I assumed, when I saw her highness walking away from the meeting place."

"Because," Raven continued with a harder edge to her voice, "one of the kids. The scrawny, dirty blonde boy, about yay high," she indicated with her hand, just under her shoulder, probably meaning Max, a kid that was barely 14, "came to get Clarke. Said his friend got cut up on a piece of the fence. He was pretty freaked so Clarke went to check him out."

The look she gave him clearly indicated the "you asshole," that she didn't tack on to the end, "And so she asked me to let you know where she was, and that she'd be back as soon as possible. Now," she grabbed Finn's head and pressed a kiss to his cheek, then held out a fist for Monty to bump, "I'm out. Make good choices!"

They watched her leave, then Monty turned to Finn, "So... is she always like that?"

"Always."

Monty shook his head, "You definitely have a type, dude."

"Shut up, Monty."

They turned their attention to their food, and tried to ignore the slight awkwardness of the silence. Eventually, a noise came from down below. "Heads up," Clarke called, and then her bag went flying through the hatch. Monty leaned sharply to the left to avoid being smacked in the face with it. Clarke's hand came up next, over the edge first, and she placed the bowl she was carrying on the floor then nudged it away from the edge, before she dropped down the ladder again. Bellamy leaned over, curious as to what she was doing and saw her lugging the med kit up with her. It wasn't that big, and probably wasn't that heavy, but it was wide, and therefore made climbing difficult, "Oh, for the love of..." he leaned over farther, marvelling at her ability to be completely exasperating. "Give me that." She looked up at him, surprised, but hefted it up high enough for him to grab. When he did so, she quickly climbed up. "You could have asked for help," he told her.

She settled herself down cross legged on the floor, "I could have done it. You didn't strike me as the chivalrous type, Bellamy."

He ignored that, "And why," he pointed to the information packet from the Ark, "didn't I know about that? Did you not think it would be useful information for me to know?"

She looked taken aback for a moment, and he recognized that he was being unfair, that he was once again taking the stress of the situation out on her but before he could backtrack, anger overcame her features. Monty's head swivelled back and forth between the two of them as Clarke began to speak, "I don't know what your..."

"Whoa, whoa," Finn interrupted. "Let's back up a moment, shall we? Clarke, the injury. Is the kid okay?"

"Yeah," she said, "Max was pretty hysterical but it really wasn't that bad. I think he's just afraid of blood."

"Good. Now that that's settled, Bellamy, she didn't tell you about the info because you had no interest in it until now, so maybe back off of her."

"She can fight her own battles, Collins."

"Uh yes," Clarke interjected, "she can. And she would appreciate it if you would stop talking about her as if she wasn't even in the room." She fixed both Bellamy and Finn with a determined look. "We're here for a reason. I don't care if you don't like each other, and I don't care if you don't like me, Bellamy. But you asked us here, because you want us to help you, to help them," she made an expansive gesture towards the outer wall of the drop ship, "so count to ten, or bite your tongue, or whatever you have to do to approach this civilly. I'm not going to sit here, and let you treat me like I don't matter. You need me. Deal with it. And you, Finn, stop trying to protect me. I'm not your problem."

She let the silence sit for a moment. And Bellamy traded hostile looks with Finn, "Now, Monty," Clarke said, sweeter than before, "did you have anything to add?"

"Nope. I'm good."

Clarke met his eyes, he could see that she was still angry, but that she was forcing it down. It shamed him a little that she could be so much more controlled than he, that she was so clearly a better person, and so he vowed, once again to try harder. "Bellamy," she said in an even tone, "how about you tell us what you wanted with the info you had Jasper compile?"


	6. If You Shake My Hand, That's For Life

Author Notes: Shorter chapter! I thought this was supposed to be the end, but it seems it is not. Updates will be slower, as real life has picked up, but I hope y'all stick with me! I hear tonight's ep was a good one, I can't wait to watch it tomorrow morning! Thanks for the reviews! I love hearing what you guys have to say.

**If You Shake My Hand, That's For Life**

Clarke checked her watch, and just managed not to sigh audibly. Bellamy and Finn had been bickering back and forth for going on fifteen minutes now, and neither one was budging on their position. Bellamy was firmly anti-any-and-all Grounders. Finn, much like Octavia would have, was arguing the opposite. Bellamy had initially been incredulous, pointing out Finn's recent, nearly fatal injury. Finn had pointed out that they had been trespassing in the Grounder's territory, and the Grounder had recently been bashed in the head with a rock, which may have put him in a violent mood.

Octavia, Finn had pointed out, had spent more time with the Grounder than any of them, and she thought he was a good guy.

Octavia, Bellamy had countered, hadn't spent a lot of time around people and maybe was not the best judge of character.

"Octavia," Clarke had interjected, "isn't here, so maybe you should stop speaking for her? Unless you want me to go get her?" Finn probably would have agreed, but Bellamy gave her a dirty look and had returned to arguing with Finn about the Grounder's possible motives.

Clarke, when asked, had tentatively sided with Finn. Monty, after what had happened to Jasper, was with Bellamy, though neither Clarke or Monty were as invested in the argument. Clarke thought that, with the conflicting information, they had no way of knowing if either side was correct. She thought that they should wait, and gather more information. Neither Bellamy or Finn was content with that outcome right now. They were arguing in circles though, and Clarke's attempts to move them along had pretty much been ignored.

If she were Raven, Clarke thought idly, she'd have made a crack about them needing to get a room, and then probably asked to watch. They'd have shut up, at least, and it might have been amusing to see if it was possible for Bellamy Blake to be embarrassed. But she wasn't Raven, and so she tried (and failed, so far) to inject a bit of rationality into the discussion.

Clarke picked at a hole that was forming at the hem of her pants, and tried to reign in her temper. This meeting had started out so promisingly, too. Bellamy had started by laying out a plan to organize the remaining former prisoners into small groups, each with a captain of sorts. The captain would be responsible for keeping track of the members of their group, checking in with them in the morning, at midday, and before bed. That way, should anyone else go missing, they'd know far sooner, and any rescue mission would be more likely to succeed.

Together, the four of them had roughly organized the groups according to skill set. While in the long run it would be smart for people to move around to different teams and develop different abilities, for now and until their odds of survival wasn't quite so slim, they all agreed to put everyone where they were the strongest, to maximize productivity. Working off of Jasper's list they'd managed to form groups with a mix of ages, and they'd carefully distributed the delinquents that could prove to be difficult, or rebellious, with the captains thought able to most easily stand up to them.

Clarke had worked to keep a neutral expression on her face, so she wouldn't trigger Bellamy's latent defensiveness, and derail the meeting with another fight. She'd admitted (to herself) that he was intelligent, but the solid, strategic thinking he was laying out for them was another surprise. This wasn't just day to day he was setting up – this was long term. A whole new society.

Clarke's group, the healers, was the smallest - she'd been assigned Octavia, who already had a head start, Cyrus - a burly, but quiet and fairly unintimidating 16 year old boy. She hadn't really interacted with him but Bellamy had insisted she choose one of the larger boys, pointing out that, as had happened with Finn's surgery, they might at some point need the muscle. Clarke had chosen the least offensive option offered. The fourth member of her group was Vada, one of the youngest girls who nonetheless struck all of them as being bright and observant. The idea was to have Vada stick close to base camp to deal with the routine cuts and scrapes that happened, while the other healers went out with hunting and scouting parties, where the most severe injuries seemed to occur. Clarke was fairly certain that Octavia would only be going out with Bellamy, or one of his main minions, but she'd let Octavia fight that battle.

Bellamy had two hunting groups to oversee (and three of the more concerning delinquents) while he'd selected Monroe and Miller to each lead another. Monty had the biggest group, which they were going to call the gatherers. Monty, though he'd been a little hesitant at first, had several good ideas and he'd spoken more animatedly as the meeting went on, and Bellamy seemed receptive. They had a plan to begin cultivating plants in the spring, rather than risk picking the surrounding area clean. He'd also suggested that anyone who was planning on leaving the camp on a trip with the potential to last longer than a few hours be given a crash course in edible plants. That way, if someone was lost, cut off some way, they'd at least be able to feed themselves.

They'd organized groups of builders, who'd be responsible for the wall, and who would need to begin constructing more permanent structures, able to withstand the elements. They'd set a deadline, the beginning of November, when according to the info from the Ark, the weather would begin to turn.

Finn was in charge of several groups of scouts, though he'd be doing it in a hands off way, for now. They'd informed Bellamy of the bunker Finn had found, as well as the vehicle they'd sheltered from the acid fog. Finn's job would be to seek out such remnants of the past and strip them of anything useful. Clothes and blankets were a priority, as well as tools that they could use (or copy should what they find be too far degraded). For now, Raven and a couple of those who'd been on engineering or mechanical tracts would go out with the scouts. As of right now, the only task around camp for them would be the communication systems, but the hope was that going out with the scouts would yield enough parts for them to build devices that would help the group at large. Monty had hopes for some kind of two way communication device that outgoing groups could use to keep in touch with the home base, and possibly a way to loop the solar panels in the drop ship to a kind of refrigerator to preserve food, to start with.

There were a few towns marked on the map that could be reached in a day or two and while they'd all acknowledged that they might, in the future, have to make a run for them, they decided that at the moment the risks outweighed the rewards.

They'd all agreed that everyone at camp should carry a weapon, and Bellamy had put forth the idea that they all learn at least basic fighting techniques. Clarke saw the wisdom in that, but she was a little leery, as it meant that she was now going to be spending several hours a week with Monroe. She was pretty sure she'd end up with at least one black eye, that the other girl would make seem like an accident.

Sentries would now be posted at the gate, and comings and goings monitored more closely, and there would be a 24 hour perimeter watch, with everyone being required to take shifts.

Discussion about security, and learning how to fight, had led to discussion about the reason why they needed to learn how to fight, which in turn led to the current, seemingly never ending discussion about the Grounders, and the end of their, nearly friendly, collaboration.

Clarke idly stretched her legs out, and leaned back on her palms. Her foot knocked into Bellamy's knee, but he barely glanced at her. Monty had his head tipped back against the side of the drop ship, and appeared not to be paying attention any longer.

Finn was saying something about respecting the boundaries, and living in peace with the Grounders, when something clicked in Clarke's brain and she blurted, a little too loudly, "Boundaries."

Three heads swiveled towards her, Monty merely curious (perhaps a little sleepy) while both Bellamy and Finn were looking at her as if they were wondering if she'd become a little slow.

"Yeah, good of you to have been paying attention, Clarke."

She waved Bellamy's sarcasm off, "No. It just occurred to me. What if you're both right? We assumed that the river that runs along Mount Weather was a boundary, and Jasper was speared for crossing it, right?"

Three nods.

"Well what's the point of boundaries?"

"To…" Finn started slowly, though she could see her point was beginning to dawn, "divide territory."

"And why would you need to divide territory…" Clarke said.

"You think that there's more than one group of Grounders," Bellamy deduced.

"I think it would make sense. I know you don't want to hear it, Bellamy, but Octavia is convinced that the Grounder who took her was trying to protect her, and he did do a good job on her leg. Think about it, if he was planning on keeping her captive, why would he make it easier for her to get around?"

"And he warned us, with the horn," Finn had made that point before, but Bellamy was reluctant to accept it.

"And you guys were pretty far away when John, Roma and Diggs were killed. Maybe you crossed another boundary."

"Are you seriously arguing that they should be forgiven for killing three of our group, Clarke?" Bellamy fixed her with a hard glare.

"Of course not! But, with the way things are down here… I imagine they're pretty protective of their resources and accustomed to taking drastic measures to protect them."

"So you're thinking that we must have landed on neutral ground, then?" Monty asked.

"It would explain why we haven't been attacked here," Clarke reasoned, "so maybe landing off course was a boon."

"This is all well and good," Bellamy spoke up, "but guesses and assumptions aren't going to get us anywhere. Say there are good Grounders and bad Grounders? How are we supposed to tell the difference? Especially without risking more lives? I'm not about to just send people out in all directions to wait to see if they get killed, just to figure out where we're not allowed to travel.

Clarke didn't have a response for that, because she wouldn't be willing to take that chance either.

"Maybe," Finn ventured, "Octavia could…"

Bellamy cut him off with a vicious look, "If you're about to suggest using my sister as bait, Collins, you should think twice."

Finn shrugged, pragmatic as always, "I wouldn't say bait, but if she wants to…"

Bellamy went to lunge for Finn, but Clarke grabbed for his forearm, and held him in place. He turned angry eyes on her, but she spoke before he could, "We would not put Octavia in danger. I will not put her in danger. I promise."

Bellamy held her eyes for a few moments, before he nodded, and then relaxed. "And we don't mention this to her just yet, got it?" Clarke said and looked pointedly at both Monty and Finn until they nodded.

"She was pretty sure that he didn't understand her, anyway," Bellamy pointed out.

Clarke had been thinking about that, and she didn't buy it, so she said as much, "More than 90 percent of people in this area of the world were English speakers, so I think it's unlikely that the Grounder couldn't understand her at all. I mean, we all read books in school, from hundreds of years ago, and understood them."

"Uh, I understood that they were boring," Monty interjected, and Clarke smiled at him, happy for the break in the tension.

Before Bellamy or Finn could pick up their argument, Clarke spoke up, "I think we need to table this for now. We're not getting anywhere. How about for now, we play defense. We learn how to fight, and we instruct everyone who's leaving the walls to be on guard, and to keep their eyes open for anything that might help us figure out what to do about the Grounders."

And so, they'd adjourned the meeting. She could tell that Bellamy hadn't been happy to leave on that note, but he'd managed to bite back any protest and he had and left, planning to track down Miller, Monroe and the others to explain their new duties. He'd barely acknowledged Finn, while leaving, but had asked her to meet him in his tent later, saying that he had one more thing to go over with Clarke alone, so she had agreed to stop by. Monty had left shortly after, telling Finn that he would be by tomorrow.

Alone, for the first time since they'd taken off for different missions, and he'd returned unconscious and bleeding, Finn simply stared at her. Clarke avoided his gaze, and he sighed, "Clarke…"

"I need to check the wound, make sure it's not showing signs of infection," she told him, reaching back to her training for that cloak of professionalism she had learned from her mother and the other doctors on the Ark.

"Because undressing will somehow make this less uncomfortable?"

"Don't," she told him flatly. "You're injured. I'm the closest thing we have to a doctor. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable. But if you'd prefer for your girlfriend to be here…"

Finn's mouth compressed, but he raised his shirt above the wound, and Clarke began to remove the bandages, "Can't I explain? Just a little?"

"You really don't have to."

"Clarke. Please?"

Clarke eyed him, noted the determined expression he wore, and knew he wasn't going to let this go. Finn had proven nothing if not persistent in the days since she'd met him. "Fine. You have until I clean and redress this, and that's it. Got it?"

He didn't waste any time, "I've known Raven since we were kids."

"She told me. You were the boy next door."

"And you've met her. She's amazing. But…"

"She worked as hard as anyone to save your life, Finn. Despite knowing what happened with us, so think of that before you start with the 'buts.'"

"But," Finn continued, "I never really saw anyone else. We were always together. She's my best friend."

"I'm familiar with the concept," Clarke said drily.

Finn opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of what he was going to say, and paused for a moment before continuing, "She kissed me, one day. When I was almost fourteen. And after that we were always together, as more than friends, until I was confined. And then 17 months later, you're nagging me on a drop ship to earth."

Clarke furrowed her eyebrow, "That's real nice. I was the first girl you saw in over a year, so boom…"

"No! Clarke, you weren't the first girl. You were hardly the only girl in that ship, if you remember. I saw you. I liked you. Had we met before, somehow, on the Ark, I think I still would have."

Clarke drew in a breath, and turned to discard the cloth she'd used to clean Finn's stitches, "I don't know what you want me to say to that."

"Say you liked me too. Say…"

Clarke cut him off, "You know that I did. And you also know that I wouldn't have, quite as much, had you, at some point mentioned Raven," she began applying a new dressing.

"I know. And maybe that's why I didn't," Finn winced and she looked at him incredulously, "wait. That came out sleazier than I meant it to."

"Yeah it did."

Finn ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "I mean… I saw Raven once a month once I got locked up. Supervised, so we didn't talk about anything real. And then I was on earth, she was on the Ark. I didn't know if I'd ever see her again."

"But your wristband…"

"I didn't want her to think I was dead, Clarke! My parent's either."

Clarke placed her hand on his shoulder, to prevent him from rising any further, "Calm down so you don't set yourself back." Finn subsided somewhat, so Clarke continued, "Look. The why's don't matter. Not really. We were stressed and scared, and lonely, and it happened. We'll call it comfort. There's no changing that. But Raven's here now, and she loves you."

"I know," Finn said quietly.

"She loves you, and I barely know you," Finn started to protest, but Clarke spoke over him, "It's true. I don't know anything about your parents, or your life on the Ark. Whether you love her the same way she loves you… Only you can make that decision. And I can't, I will not, be involved in that. I like her, and I'm not interested in being the other woman."

"So… what? We pretend we're strangers?"

"So, Finn, you figure it out. Figure out what you want, how you feel, but keep me out of it. I'm out of the equation. I'm not going to come between you two, and I'm not pining for you, either. We'll be friends, or allies, and we'll work together to survive, that's it."

"So your feelings…"

"Are irrelevant, and mine to handle as I choose. Now, your time's up. You're set for the night. I'll see you in the morning, and if everything looks good we'll talk about moving you into a tent tomorrow night."

"Thank you, Clarke. For everything. I'd be dead, if not for you."

"Not just me, but you're welcome. What are friends for?"

Finn rolled his eyes, "Can I give you some friendly advice?"

"Maybe?" Clarke said warily.

"Watch yourself. With Bellamy."

Clarke sat back on her heels, surprised, "Where did that come from?"

"He was a few seconds away from letting you be skewered, not too long ago, I don't trust him."

"I'm not brain damaged. I remember. I also remember that his first instinct was to stop me from falling, and then he hesitated. I'm pretty confident that, whatever else Bellamy Blake is, he's not a murderer."

"Okay," Finn held up a palm in an appeasing gesture, "I do trust you, Clarke. Completely. I just want you to be careful."

"You're my friend, Finn. Not my keeper. I'm going to work with Bellamy, because that's what's best for everyone. So I'm going to trust him, unless he gives me a very good reason not to."

"Other than 90% of his actions since we've landed?"

Clarke met Finn's eyes, becoming impatient, "None of us have been batting 1000 since we landed."

Finn looked puzzled, "Huh?"

"Baseball?" Finn shook his head, still puzzled. "Nevermind. It means none of us has made all of the right calls, you and I included. And we need Bellamy. Most of the people outside won't follow anyone else now, if they ever would have. And I think that he's trying, which is good enough for me." Finn nodded, grudgingly and Clarke stood up, and turned to leave. "Goodnight. Rest."

"'Night, Clarke."

Clarke found herself shaking her head as she climbed down the ladder. She'd just defended Bellamy to Finn, and she'd dismissed Finn's concerns with barely a thought. Clarke had always been stubborn, resolute in her opinions, to a fault. Once made up her mind rarely changed. Wells had often teased her about it, and had been a victim of that tendency, in the end. Earth had forced her to change, adapt, grow up.

She'd thought Bellamy was the enemy, that he would get them all killed, but she'd been wrong. He wouldn't thank her for defending him, but she'd continue to do so, because Clarke's gut told her he'd earn it.


End file.
